


Quando nudus est amor

by speia



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Universe, Comfort/Angst, Experimental Style, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Heavy Angst, I haven't decided if this will have a happy ending or not yet, Ishval Civil War, Like really slow build, Mentions of Mental Illness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Experimental, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, References to Depression, References to Genocide, References to War, Slow Build, Strangers to Lovers, a lot of feelings, again I'm going to hell, it's royai... they take their time, like HEAVY, probably a long fic, spoilers of the whole series, updated once a week unless stated otherwise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speia/pseuds/speia
Summary: Arma uirosque cano
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Ea ante eo (Riza)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feuersturm97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feuersturm97/gifts).



> Summary: "I sing of battles and warriors" 
> 
> Chapter 1: "Her before him"

She always had been a quiet, discreet child. Whether it was at home, on the street or at school. She had always been quiet, always been discreet. As if she had been trying not to draw too much attention on herself. Quiet, discreet, perhaps a little odd too. She was feeling different, for sure. Not quite like the others. Her teachers often said she was too strict, hence her inability to tie deep bonds with comrades of her own age, but the explanation was never satisfactory. Yes, she was strict, keen on following the rules: her father taught her so. Weren't rules meant to be followed? But they weren't understanding, they were making fun of her. Often, too often. Because of where she lived, because of how poor she was. Because of her father. 

She wasn't fitting in. 

Nowhere. 

Some might say it was all due to the absence of a mother, some others pretended it was the overwhelming presence of her father. Perhaps it was one of those, perhaps it was a little bit of both. 

She wasn't fitting in. 

Nowhere. 

Not even at home. 

Home. Home was a strange place. It was nothing like the cozy, warm houses the stories always mentioned. Home was a house in ruins. Home was cold. Home was poor. Home was damp and smelt of mold. And, most of all, home was quiet. And silent. Every sound she was making was echoing strangely on the crumbling walls. Home was a very strange place. A place she didn't quite like. A place she was afraid of, even. A place, sometimes, she wished she could run away from. 

Because of her father. 

Her father was… She didn't even know. Her father was a very estranged man. His looks, first of all. He had been neglecting his appearance for how long as she could remember. She never saw him go for a haircut or buy himself new clothes. He always asked her, once every two months, to take care of his hair and, when the holes were too big, to repair his outfits. She had never learnt how to cut hair or how to knit properly and, even if she got better over the years, it was far from looking good. Never her father complained, he didn't seem to care. But she cared. Because everyone was making fun of him, treating him like a complete idiot. Because they couldn't see how smart he was, her father. But she could. He was working on his research all day, reading books she couldn't even begin to understand. Alchemy. The military even came one day, offering him to become a State Alchemist. That meant money. That meant a better place, a better life. A better home. 

He refused. 

He refused and he never told her why. Mumbling incoherent stuff about not wanting to become an army dog, stuff she was too young to understand. 

And there was plenty of stuff she was too young to understand. 

Her father's work, for starters. She never liked it. She never liked it because it was driving him mad. Literally. It was often making him all doom and gloom, wandering around the house erratically, barely eating, barely sleeping. And then, sometimes, there were outbursts. Outbursts of intense mania when he was close to a discovery, throwing himself into research, barely sleeping, barely eating but for an all too different reason. She hated those outbursts even more. For her father looked so mad, as if possessed, when they occurred. There was something wild dancing in his eyes, like a raging flame consuming him from the inside. He looked so mad it was frightening. So frightening she was hating alchemy. Hating that fire alchemy he was trying to achieve so much. That alchemy that was driving all men mad. That alchemy that was driving her father mad. And, in his madness, he was all alone. Barely acknowledging his daughter. 

And, in his madness, she was all alone. 

She had never known her mother who had died giving birth. All she had was a few black and white photographs, photographs she had found one day, somewhere in the house, left alone unattended for. Old photographs. Memories that weren't hers. Memories her father never talked about. And a name he never spoke. So her mother remained a stranger, mostly. A smiling woman on once glossy paper. Hard to tie a bond with an image. So she had looked at herself sometimes, before the mirror, wondering if she was looking like her. Her mother. A woman lost to oblivion. On some days she was feeling like she was, on some others not quite. To the point of doubting that the woman had been even married to her father. Or real. To the point of doubting that herself also was. 

Real. 

Was she real if she was so quiet and discreet she was often going unnoticed? 

Was she real if the other kids were avoiding her? 

Was she real if her own father couldn't see her? 

Maybe not quite. 

Or so she thought, until a single encounter changed it all. One encounter was all it took. For her whole world to unravel. 

"Riza" she shivered when her father spoke her name "We're having a visitor" she nodded her head a bit in understanding "He's going to stay with us for a while, be polite with him."

A visitor? Staying? She blinked in astonishment. They never had visitors, she never even had a friend home. So someone who was staying for a while? Here? Why? She was aware her father's condition had worsened: his cough sounded so hollow. Nevertheless, he had been refusing to see a doctor. So having someone… here? It wasn't making any sense. And yet, her heart was beating with frenzy. Someone here. Someone new. That was somehow exciting. 

"He's going to help me with my research" oh, so much for great expectations "Make sure to be nice, okay?"

Another man fascinated with fire. Another mad man. Here. 

But, when she heard the car's engine, she hid behind the door, caught somewhere between (still great) expectation and fear. Expectation to finally meet someone new, fear of having to see that mad look on another face. An unknown face. 

"The pleasure's all mine, sir."

Except the man was tall, gorgeous, polite, refined. His eyes were sparkling and there was nothing frightening in those black pupils. Except the man glanced at her.

"Your daughter, I presume?"

"Yes" her father waved at her "Come on, Riza, don't be shy."

"Riza, that's a pretty name" except the man smiled at her "I'm Roy, Roy Mustang" a smile so spontaneous and bright "A pleasure to meet you."

And for the first time she truly felt like she was. 

Real. 


	2. Is ante ea (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Him before her

He had loved the place, right when he first stepped in. The air, heavy with tobacco smoke. The intoxicating smell of alcohol. The dim lights, reflecting on all those colorful bottles. The piano music. The giggles of the girls, their splendid outfits. He had loved the place, right from the start. They had left the countryside very early and he was tired by this endless car drive. He had loved the place, probably because it made him feel warm and dizzy after hours on the road. Probably because all those pretty women surrounded him, called him cute, ruffled his hair, hugged him even. That was a little strange, being shown this much random affection. That was indeed a little strange. In the good sense of it. Yes, he truly liked it here. 

"You stay here, Roy, okay?" her mother always had this peculiar way of playing with his hair "We won't be long."

"Be nice to your aunt, son" and his father of patting his cheek a little too briskly, as if he was embarrassed to show kindness "We'll be right back."

But he was no longer a baby and was always feeling really ashamed being treated like one in public. 

"Yeah" he just muttered, a bit annoyed, before turning his back on them and walking away. 

If he had known that was the last time he'd actually see his parents, he wouldn't have been so rude. He would have smiled, thrown his arms around his mother, around his father, kissed their cheeks, told them he loved them, he'd give his aunt no troubles. Told them to be careful on the road, especially on those narrow streets where the visibility was close to none. He would have been better. He would have been kinder. But he couldn't know. Nobody could have known. And, when his parents crossed that door, it was to never come back. 

"Roy" and what was the most painful was the look on his aunt's face "Roy, I'm so sorry." 

At first, he didn't cry. Whereas everyone around him did. The beautiful women, even his aunt who seemed pretty strong. At first, he was just dumbfounded. Unable to cry, unable to think, unable to realize. Letting himself be dragged around, be dressed for the funerals. At first, he didn't cry. At first. That was until he saw the coffins in the dirt. Then he realized. He realized he would never see his parents again. He realized what death meant. How painful loss was. And how bitter tears of pure sorrow were. 

"Don't worry, Roy-boy" his aunt squeezed his little hand in hers "You're going to stay with me from now on" and her smile, somehow, looked like his father's "You're not alone."

"We're your family now" one of the girls said, he was no longer sure which one. 

Though this kindness, in times of grief, hurt. His parents disappeared so easily, so absurdly. They crossed a threshold and vanished. What if his new family was to disappear too? No. It was too painful. Too dreadful. So he swore to himself. He swore to himself he would work hard, real hard, so he would never have to feel such pain again. So he would never have to lose anyone ever again. 

The solemn promise of a naive child. 

It soon occurred to his aunt he was a gifted student. She encouraged him on this path, telling him if he was good at school he could do anything he wanted in the future. So he kept bringing home good grades. Because it was making her proud, because he had sworn to himself he'd work hard. But, truth was, he was mostly bored. So bored he was spending countless hours at the library, reading books, trying to understand. How he could become strong. How he could protect what was dear to him. So, one day, as he strolled around the shelves he found books about that science that was the glory of Amestris and yet remained pretty occult. 

Alchemy. 

It was a chance encounter. A book. A random book with a pretty cover. He had just picked it out of curiosity, because the cover was appealing. He never planned on getting serious about it, let alone to make it the core of his work and weaponry. But the signs and formulas were fascinating and he liked riddles. He thought it'd be just another riddle to decipher. He didn't expect to have an affinity with alchemy, none of his parents had ever practised it. But he had and, if he dared to say, he was even good at it. Before he could realize, he was helping his aunt and the girls around, fixing broken things for them, happy when they smiled at him, ruffled his hair or sometimes even giving him a little something as payment. 

He was useful. 

Finally. 

His aunt soon realized he was a skilled promising young alchemist. And he remembered the dead serious look on his face when she offered him to go study in an apprenticeship. At first, he had been reluctant. He was the only man in the house after all, even if he was only fourteen, and it was his duty as a gentleman to be there for her and the girls. Except he knew. He knew his aunt didn't exactly need him to run the place or to protect herself. Or the girls. No. If he wanted to be strong, strong enough not to lose anyone ever again, he had to go. As much as he hated to admit it, he was a little afraid. That bad feeling intensified when she mentioned the alchemist she had in mind. 

"Despite his looks and the place he lives in, he is a great alchemist who turned down a military proposal for a license" she exhaled some cigarette smoke "He's seen as a madman though, it might not be easy everyday" how did a bar owner know all that, he truly wondered "He has a daughter, she might be of your age." 

And was what with that grin? And why was he blushing even? 

"So you're the young man in question, hmmm?" okay but that Hawkeye guy seemed, indeed, a little rough "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine, sir."

Not only the man. The house too was in shackles, almost in ruins. Someone was living here, for real? With a daughter to raise? He was polite enough not to mention anything but… But a blonde head caught his eyes. The daughter in question. Hiding behind the front door. She seemed nervous. Cute. 

"Your daughter, I presume?"

"Yes" Hawkeye waved at her "Come on, Riza, don't be shy."

So Riza Hawkeye it was, uh? 

"Riza, that's a pretty name" he complimented "I'm Roy, Roy Mustang" and smiled "A pleasure to meet you."

And what was with that look in her big brown eyes? 

And why was he blushing even? 


	3. Vir qui ignescit (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man who catches fire

Calm. 

He was calm. Roy Mustang. Her father's apprentice. Terribly calm. So calm she wondered if he was indeed studying alchemy. Because she couldn't identify the expression on his face. On his frowned focused and yet somehow still calm face. Calm. Not mad. Not possessed. Calm. And yet aware. Yet very aware. 

"Is something the matter, Riza?"

She tensed when he said her name, first name, and her fingers curled on the doorframe. He was gentle. He was nice. He was kind to her. He was always kind to her. So why was her heart beating so fast? Why was she afraid? 

"N-No" she stammered and her cheeks flushed, again "I just need to…" she played with her hair nervously "Sorry, I'm…"

"No, no, it's me" he gathered his notes clumsily, put his books away "It's your house, I'm the one bothering you" he smiled at her, blushing a little "And, please, call me Roy."

She disturbed him. During his research, during work. She disturbed him. And yet he apologized. He never was angry, never yelled at her, never blamed her for interrupting his train of thoughts. He was calm. So calm. And his smile was warm. So warm. Soothing. Comforting. Like fire during a cold winter night. Her heart raced faster as this strange, soothing heat spread to her chest. 

"It's okay, sir" she looked away in embarrassment "I'm just about to make us dinner, that's all."

"I'll help" he got up a little too briskly, bumped in the table as some sheets and a few books fell off the ground in a thudding sound "Really…”

He sighed in annoyance and kneeled down to gather his belongings. Without really thinking, because it seemed like the most natural thing to do, she squatted down to grab his papers. His notes. Notes covered in circles and symbols she couldn’t understand. 

"Riza" he protested "Riza, it's okay, you don't have to clean my mess."

But she did all the same, keeping her head low, her fingers trembling a little. What was she afraid of, really? He was kind. He was always so kind. 

"Riza" he suddenly extended a hand, probably to stop her "There is no…”

He didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't. Because his move was miscalculated and, instead of grabbing the sheets she was holding, his fingers made contact with her hand. It was brief but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through her whole body. His fingers. On her hand. Warm. Just like his voice. Just like his eyes. She froze, her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. He made contact. Unexpected contact. Unexpected for him as well for he moved his arm back so briskly his elbow hit the table. Hard. 

"Sir" she laid on him concerned eyes "Are you okay?"

"Yeah" he hissed in pain, rubbed his elbow "What a clumsy alchemist I'd make, uh?" 

He let out a little laugh though his lips curved in a crooked smile. That must have hurt. That must still hurt. Because of her. And yet he joked. And yet he laughed. He laughed. His eyes closed, he brought his hand to his mouth and his cheeks blushed a little more. He shook his head, his unkempt hair falling messily before his eyes. And a single word crossed her head. 

Gorgeous. 

And, yes, when he glanced at her again, his eyes were burning. But that flame was different. That flame was new. 

Not mad. And not possessed. 

“Come on” he dramatically sighed once again, getting up and brushing the dirt off his knees “The floor is no place for a lady.” 

He extended a hand for her to take. Contact. Physical contact. Again. She was a bit dumbfounded, unable to think with her heart going crazily wild against her ribcage. So she took the hand he offered, by automatism. He was indeed pretty warm. And his skin softer than she first thought. Too soft for an alchemist’s. Her father’s hands were always so rough. Why was everything about this man so different? 

“I-I’ll make dinner” she finally managed to say after what felt like a lifetime.

“Sure” he grinned once more, unburdening her of his (now covered with dirt) notes “I’ll help.”

She nodded in agreement, unable to protest anymore. He was confusing her, that man. Because he was calm. Because he was soft. Because he was gentle. Because he was everything her father wasn’t. Because she wasn’t familiar with those feelings and didn’t know what to do or how to act. So she remained silent. And opened the cupboards, looking for something to cook. If there was still something left to cook to begin with. 

“I…” she closed the cupboard, opened another one “I can’t find anything” she admitted in a whisper. 

“There’s nothing left?” he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment “We have to go buy a little something, I guess.” 

She tensed. Abruptly. Go buy something. Downtown. That meant people. That meant being looked at, stared at. People. That glare in their eyes, that glare they always had. No. No, she didn’t want to. Go there. Being scrutinized as if she was a freak. No. It was painful. It was too painful. Staying at home was better. Staying at home was safer. Though they had nothing to eat. Though she had to go out. No. First, she had to ask her father for some money and then go out. Face the heinous crowd. No. No, she couldn’t. But she had to. But she couldn’t. 

“Are you coming?” 

She blinked. Why was he asking? She usually was the one taking care of such domestic matters. They were the intellectual, hard-working alchemists, she was the one worrying about putting food in their bellies so their brains could function. Her task, her job. So why was he asking? Why wasn’t he just sending her on the groceries? Why was he always so kind? 

“You don’t have to” he averted his eyes “Just tell me if there is anything you want to eat.”

“The money” she brought her trembling hands to her chest “My father…” 

“Don't worry about such trivial matters” his grin widened “Is there anything you want to eat?” 

Oh yes, there were plenty. Plenty of food she wanted to try. Plenty of food she couldn’t afford because they were cursed to count every penny. Meat. Fish. Chocolate. Coffee. Butter. Milk. Plenty of food the only thought of was enough to make her drool in expectation. Ah, it’d be so nice. Baking a cake. Scrambling some eggs. Grilling some meat. No. That was awfully expensive, she was aware of that. She couldn’t ask him that. Even if her belly growled at this sole fantasy. 

“So-Sorry, I…” and she could feel her cheeks burn “Pick whatever you like, it’s all good.”

“So you aren’t coming?” he sounded a little disappointed “I’ll be there, you know” and his voice was soothing, like a stroke “You won’t be alone out there.”

And he had the words. He always had the words. 


	4. Fera atque timida (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wild and shy (refers to a female subject)

He knew about women. He had always known about women, due to the environment he was raised in. The clients, the girls, his aunt, even the female students he saw at school. He knew about women, he was often surrounded by women. But this one he couldn’t understand. At all. She wasn’t a woman. Or even a little girl. She was an animal. Wild and shy. Afraid of approaching him, always lurking behind a door, staring at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention or too focused on his work. He knew of women. But he didn’t know of wild skittish animals. So he didn't know what to do or what to say to make her at ease. Especially when she was laying on him those big brown eyes full of fear and concern. Those beautiful big brown eyes. And, everytime she did, he was at a complete loss. 

“Are you coming?”

So, often, he offered. He offered casual little things to do. Today were the groceries. The kitchen was completely empty, it was the perfect opportunity. He had to pay his master, Hawkeye, a certain sum in exchange for the teaching, the food and the lodgings but his aunt was always sending him more than needed and, well, considering where his master was living, there wasn’t a bunch of places where he could casually spend his extra money. So it was the perfect opportunity. Perhaps, he could buy her some nice food. Something she wanted to eat specifically. Something she had always wanted to try but never could due to her father’s poor state of life. The meals were always so gloomy. And he would do anything to make her smile. 

“You don’t have to” he added since she never answered “Just tell me if there is anything you want to eat.” 

Yes, he would do anything to make her smile. Because, sure, her lips were curving, sometimes, probably as a reflex. But she never actually, spontaneously smiled. With one of those smiles that illuminate one’s whole face, brighten it up all of a sudden. And he would do anything to see that. Even if it’d take something as trivial as just buying her food. 

“The money” ah, her hands were trembling again, when she brought them to her chest “My father…” 

Her father. Right. Her father. His aunt had warned him Berthold Hawkeye was quite the strange character and he had first thought he didn’t actually mind as long as he was a good alchemy master who could teach him all he needed to be taught. When she had teased him about Hawkeye’s daughter “being of his age”, he had just blushed but never took her words seriously. And, honestly, he didn’t even expect to. Take her words seriously. He was here to study, nothing else. Except he didn’t meet with a daughter of his age. He met with a wild animal. A beautiful wild animal.

“Don't worry about such trivial matters” he grinned and offered once again “Is there anything you want to eat?” 

There was something. There obviously was something. Her big eyes widened even more, something he didn’t even think possible, and sparkled with excitement and expectation. She was seeing it. The food. Great. If he worked that way, he could have her smile. Truly smile. It would take some time, obviously, but he definitely was in for quite some time. Her belly suddenly growled and he couldn’t help smiling some more. Cute. She was always so cute. For a wild skittish animal. 

“So-Sorry, I…” her face became all red in the split of a second “Pick whatever you like, it’s all good.” 

Perhaps it was a little too soon. Ah, too bad. He would have liked to interact with her in a whole different environment. He would have liked to see her outside of this strange house. Though he also assumed she didn’t like the outside much. He wasn’t blind, he had seen. How the townfolks’ attitude changed towards him the very second he mentioned he was studying under Berthold Hawkeye’s supervision. He had seen. The weird and suspicious glare in their eyes. He couldn’t imagine the pain of growing up, as a young girl, facing that glare everyday. No wonder she turned into a wild animal, afraid of everything and everyone. And he was positive her father never did or said anything to comfort her. He didn’t even seem to see her, unless he needed her for some chores. That was terribly sad. No wonder she never learnt how to smile. 

“So you aren’t coming?” damn, he sounded more disappointed than intended “I’ll be there, you know” he tried “You won’t be alone out there.” 

Ah. Maybe not too soon after all? There was a glimpse, a little light, in her worried eyes. 

“I-I’m not so sure” she was still carefully avoiding looking at him in the eyes directly “People will… are…” her voice died out and she said no more. 

“I won’t let them, okay?” 

Oh, he wished he could just pat her head, gently, in a soothing gesture, just like his aunt or one of the girls was doing to him when he was the one that was sad, afraid and insecure. He couldn’t, she’d run away. She was skittish like that. 

“I won’t ever” he repeated “Let them.” 

She never answered, just nodded her head shyly in what he assumed was agreement. Okay, so he was making progress after all. Just a little progress but still progress. And he would definitely make her smile one day. He had all the time in the world after all: these alchemy formulas and theories were harder to comprehend than he first thought. 

"Here, let me help" he dared to rearrange the coat around her shoulders and, despite the layers of clothing, he felt her shiver "Sorry" he apologized. 

That might have been a little intrusive, still. Though she shook her head a little, curved her sad lips as if to say it was nothing. And he really,  _ really _ , wanted to pat her head gently, in a soothing gesture. Just like his aunt and the girls taught him to. Just like, if he closed his eyes and focused a bit, he could remember his mother do. 

"After you, Riza" he held the door open for her. 

"Thank you, sir."

"Please" he mused "You can call me Roy."

He insisted. Almost each time she was calling him by an honorific. Nevertheless, she never used his first name. It wasn't really a surprise, she was always keeping a distance between the two of them. Even now they were walking down that narrow muddy path that led downtown. It was okay, he wasn't taking the loss hard. Not really. He was already making progress. So he'd work harder. He could work harder. He could earn her trust. 

So she would say his name. 

With a smile. 


	5. In pectore calor (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warmth in her chest

She probably knew it by heart now. The shape of his back and shoulders. How his hair was falling on his neck. The way his arm moved when he was writing. She knew she should stop. Staring. Leaning on the doorframe and staring at him. At the piles of complex books challenging the law of gravity on his desk. At his drafts, scattered all around his chair. At his hand often scratching the back of his head, sliding his hair back as he was pondering. 

"Riza?" he called and she startled in reflex. 

He knew. He always knew when she was there. When it was her. He never mistook her for her father and she was in complete awe each time it was happening, as if he had actual eyes hiding in his soft mane. 

"Ah, come on" he swiftly moved a pile of books from the chair next to him and they nearly scattered onto the floor "I told you not to stand there, you can sit."

He glanced at her and smiled. She loved his smiles. She never saw someone smile at her like that before. They were always so bright, full of pure warmth. There was no sadness, no pity in them. He was smiling because he wanted to. Smile. Not because he felt sorry for her. 

"You're working" she added in a whisper, playing with the fabric of her dress nervously "I don't want to…"

"You're not" this smile, this mesmerizing smile "I could use a break anyway" he stretched "And a little company" and his eyes "Please?"

How could she even resist when he was looking at her like that? Whatever 'that' was. 

"O-Okay" she sat down carefully, passing a hand under her dress "I'll keep you company if you'll have me."

She tried to smile as well, her lips curving forcingly. Ah, no. She was no good. How was he doing it? Could she ever? Smile like that? Look so beautiful? And happy? 

"Of course I'll have."

She might have been wrong because he turned his head the other way but it seemed that his cheeks blushed a little. She didn't dare to ask if something was wrong, if she was a bother, if she should go. He would say no, he was gentle and considerate enough not to cast her away. For he was aware. Of how painful it was for her to stay on her own. He was aware. And yet he never felt sorry for her. Or at least it never showed in his smiles. So silence fell. Silence fell and seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours before he dared to lay his eyes on her again. His sparkling dark eyes. He was beautiful. He really was beautiful. Especially when he was looking at her like that. Whatever 'that' was. 

"There is a full moon tonight" he whispered, out of the blue "And we have a really clear day" he ruffled his hair nervously "Watching the stars and moon together tonight could be great, what do you think?"

The offer was unexpected. So unexpected she tensed and her heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Watching the stars and moon. She was often doing it, alone, when she couldn't sleep. The sky was wide and big and it was all making her dizzy, in the good sense of it. Dizzy. Losing herself in its depth. Forgetting, almost, how lonely she too often felt. There was such beauty in the night sky. She wondered what it felt like to gaze into it with someone else. With him. 

"I-I could bake us a cake" he bought all those expensive ingredients like eggs and butter after all "And hot cocoa and" milk, chocolate even "And we could get blankets and…"

What was she getting so worked up over? And her heart was now beating so fast and loud she was positive he could hear it too. 

"Sure."

He giggled. Just giggled. Let out a little laugh. Just like that one time when he bumped against the table. Closed his eyes, brought his hand to his mouth. A hand she almost wanted to touch. Almost. 

"Don't work too hard, though" he patronized "It'd be a shame if you fell asleep."

"I-I won't" she shook her head "I'll start right away so it will..."

She got up a little too briskly and her chair suddenly crashed into the ground in a loud bang. She jolted, yelped, raising her arms to protect herself, obviously scared. Not because of how loud the sound had been, but of his reaction. She didn't want him to yell at her. She couldn't afford to have him yell at her. She would cry. And she didn't want him to see her cry. 

Never. 

So she yelped again when he also got up to throw a careful arm around her. It was nothing planned. A spontaneous gesture. A careful arm. An arm. Contact. Physical contact. Direct physical contact. She froze in reflex, completely taken aback. He was holding her. A man was holding her. No, not a man. Someone was holding her. With extreme care and caution. She couldn't remember she ever was. Held. It felt nice. Warm. Cozy. Soft. Tender. And yet, for some reason, terribly frightening. So frightening she couldn't hug him back. 

"Are you okay?" his voice quivered and his brows frowned with obvious concern. 

And, despite that, he was still very beautiful. 

"Y-Yes, sir" she forced a smile, took an unsteady step back "It's just the chair, I…"

His hand travelled down from her shoulder to her arm and she found herself at a complete loss for words in the middle of her sentence. He was worried. Worried she could have hurt herself. Or else. Of all people she ever met she couldn't remember a single one ever acting like that. Not even when they were pitying her. Not even her own father. 

"Roy, what was this tantrum?" no! "Did you…?"

No, not her father, not now! 

Not when his hand was still on her arm! 

Though he let go of her almost immediately. But it was all too late. It was all too late. He saw. He saw they made contact. And she didn't like the fire that suddenly spiked in her father's eyes. An angry flame. A deadly spark. And, when his eyes met Roy's, she thought she saw it in his too. 

"I'm… I've something on the stove."

So she fled. Because he was the last person she wanted to be afraid of. Roy. He was the last person she wanted to see driven mad with fire. Except the glare had been here. Except she saw. And would no longer forget. First, her father. Now, him. It was all driving them mad. Men. 

Fire always wins. 


	6. Stellas tibicum uidere uolo (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to see the stars with you

"Look" Roy pointed at the sky "A shooting star" before he glanced at Riza lying on the grass "Make a wish."

The night was warm. The night was warm and the sky was clear. They had a slice of cake, hot cocoa, he told her all about the constellations he knew. And, when he had nothing more to tell her, they just watched the sky, in silence. The night was warm, the sky was clear. Cake, hot cocoa, Riza. It was all perfect. 

"A wish?" she brought her hands to her chest "Do… Do I have to say it out loud?"

"No" he crossed his arms under his head and sighed "Actually, you mustn't. A wish is also a secret."

What a shame, though. He would have liked to know what her wish could have been. Especially when she was staring at the sky with such big bright eyes. As if she was actually expecting some divine being to grant her what she was yearning for. Ah, a shame, really. Maybe he could have helped her, with her wish. He gazed at the galaxies randomly when another shooting star crossed his field of vision. 

"Another one" she darted her finger up real fast, excitement pervading her tone "You too make a wish, sir."

A wish, uh? 

I wish… 

I wish you could finally call me by my name. 

Riza. 

"It's so pretty" she added in a whisper, sitting up so she could bring her knees against her chest "Thank you."

"You're welcome" he let out in a sigh "Summer skies are the prettiest."

Just like you, Riza. 

Wait, what was he thinking about? Thank goodness she was too busy staring at the sky to even notice his flushed cheeks. And his heart was beating fast. His heart was beating so fast. Ah, come on, it was absurd. He knew about women, he was evolving around them. He met some of his age before, at school. Why was she making him so clumsy and awkward? 

"Sorry about earlier" she started out of the blue "My father showed up and I just…" a thrill went through her whole body and he saw her shiver "I just…"

"It's alright" he extended an arm to run a gentle hand on her back but withdrew it before he even made contact "You have nothing to apologize for."

Even if, after he saw them touch, his master asked him if he was 'interested' in his daughter and Roy had become so red he had thought his face would spontaneously catch fire. It was alright. Things were obvious tense between those two. And it wasn't his place to interfere. He just wanted to keep her company. To see her smile. To hear her calling him by his name. Nothing else. He was a man of simple needs. 

"I…" she started and never finished. 

Something was wrong. She brought her knees closer to her chest, buried her face against them, no longer looking at the sky. Something was wrong. Though he didn't dare to ask. She was just starting to get comfortable around him, he couldn't pry. So he took off his jacket and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. Only then he noticed she was crying. 

"Sorry" she wiped her tears with the back of her hands "I-I am really sorry" she sniffled "I-I don't…"

He took her in his arms. Without warning. A little too briskly. He took her. In his arms. He hadn't been thinking, it was more a reflex than anything. He should stop. He should let her go, he knew how skittish she was, doing something like that was… But she gripped on his top, twisting the fabric between her fingers. But she rested her head against his chest, hiding her face from him. But she hugged him back. Clumsily. Awkwardly. 

"I-I am happy, sir" she added "I-I really am. The sky is beautiful, I made a cake, you…" she clenched her fists some more "I am happy, I-I…"

"Ssssh" he rubbed her back gently "Like I said, you don't have to explain any…"

"But you're going" she suddenly cut him and his eyes widened "I-I heard you talk with father, I-I never meant to eavesdrop, I was just bringing coffee, I…" she took a deep, rasped breath "You're going." 

Oh no. No. He was aware he had to tell her eventually. He had prepared a whole speech, he had been trying to avoid a situation like this one. He had prepared himself to tell her eventually. Just not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to see the stars with her, to eat the cake she made and drink the hot cocoa she prepared. Though she had overheard, he should have known she had. She was always lurking somewhere, staring at him. He should have known better. 

"It's just a few days" he stated "I'm going to see my family, it's been a while" he smiled "My aunt wants to see me and the girls wrote me to say they miss me."

"The…" she pulled back to look at him and arched an interrogative brow "The girls?"

"Ah" he waved an embarrassed hand "My aunt's employees" scratched the back of his head "They've known me since I'm little, I…" and why was he justifying himself? "My aunt calls them her 'girls', I've picked the habit."

"Oh" she averted her eyes, she looked a little strange all of sudden "Then you'll… be back, right?"

She was cute. She really was cute when she was looking at him like that, with her nose still a little red and her eyes sparkling. She was cute, when she was holding on the fabric of his top with both expectation and apprehension. Cute, really cute. 

"Of course, I'm still a pitiful alchemist after all" he chuckled and ruffled her hair playfully "So I've no choice but to come back" he smiled, gently "I'll even bring you a present."

"Y-You don't have to, sir, I don't need…"

"Nonsense" his smile widened charmingly "There are plenty of things a pretty lady such as yourself would need."

"I-I am not…"

So cute, when she was embarrassed. So cute, always. Of course, he would come back. He would have to, even if he had mastered all the alchemy's principles already. He said he would work hard not to lose anyone ever again. That included her as well from now on. 

"Do you feel better?" he asked, genuinely concerned. 

"Y-Yeah" she giggled, a bit nervously "So-Sorry, I… I ruined everything."

"No, you didn't" he rubbed her shoulder vigorously "Look at the sky, the night is still so very pretty."

And so are you, Riza Hawkeye. 

Was it bad if, right now, he definitely didn't want to come home? 


	7. Timeo ne in aeternum iret (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m afraid he’d be gone forever

When she woke up that morning, Riza could feel it. That it was different. She couldn't really explain it. There was this weird atmosphere. This weird heavy atmosphere that was leaving her with a weird sensation in her stomach. She wasn't the only one feeling it. Roy was too. She had noticed. The little changes. The slight trembling in his fingers when he grabbed his morning cup of coffee. The little tinge of sadness in his eyes, smile, voice. How carefully he was choosing his every word. She was aware. He was aware too. That it was today. That it had come. This dreadful day. She had tried not to think about it but here it was. The day he was leaving. 

"Riza" even the way he was saying her name was different "I've to get ready but…" and, whereas he had always been at ease looking at her directly, he was now staring down his empty cup "Can you… give me a hand?"

"Sure" sure, she'd hold onto every little second she could grasp "Though I've never" she wrung her hands nervously "Travelled, so I don't know how…"

"It's fine" his smile suddenly brightened up and she liked that better "I'll show you how."

She tried to smile back and failed miserably. He was going. Today. He was leaving. Her. Here. Three weeks, he had said. Not even a month. She could survive, she had survived years. Her. Alone. Here. With her father. Alone. In this cold house. Three weeks were nothing. Twenty-one days. It was nothing. The blink of an eye. 

"Can you pass me those shirts?"

"These ones?"

"Yes, please."

He was swift, precise. His suitcase was so well-done, with his clothes neatly folded. He was careful, focused, his brows a little frowning. Silent. Calm. And his hands were gentle when his fingers brushed alongside the fabric to unfold a wrinkle. She would miss that. Staring at his gorgeous face. Three weeks. Twenty-one days. He had promised he'd be back. With a gift. He was leaving. Merely seeing his family. He had every right, he was probably missing them anyway. He'd be fine, he'd be happy. And, more importantly, he'd be back. So why? Why was she just feeling like crying? 

"Well, I guess I'm all set" he closed his suitcase swiftly "Time for…"

He turned his head in her direction and she averted her eyes. No. He couldn't look at her. She couldn't look at him. It was too painful. Watching him go away like that. Watching him leave. Her. Here. 

"Riza" he put a comforting hand on her arm "Riza, will you be okay?" she nodded her head frantically "Because I can stay" what? "If you need me, I can stay" he scratched the back of his head, looking down "I'll call my aunt and…"

"No" she brought her trembling hands to her chest "No, you need to see your family" she forced a smile "I'll be okay, sir."

She couldn't. Be selfish like that. She had to let him go. Not forever. Just for twenty-one days. His aunt, the girls were probably missing him too. She wasn't the only person in his life. She couldn't be selfish like that. 

"I'll be fine, sir" she repeated "Promise."

"Riza" no "Riza, I…" she definitely wasn't liking how he was saying her name today "I am…"

She frowned, darted her eyes on his face. He was looking pretty strange all of a sudden. His cheeks were more flushed than ever and his brows twitching erratically. He seemed… shy? Him? Roy Mustang? It wasn't making any sense. He was always so confident, so sure of himself. What could he be shy about, that man who was always smiling? 

"Sir?" she tried with a tiny voice, to help him carry on. 

"Ah, sorry" he let out in a sigh. 

And then, just like that, with no warning, his hands travelled up to her face in a swift movement. In a swift and unexpected movement. His hand. On her face. Cupping her cheek. His hand. Warm and soft and gentle and kind and… She tensed briskly at the sudden contact. He was touching her tenderly, oh so tenderly. And his hand was soft, and his fingers were gentle. There was nothing to fear, not in a touch like his. So why? Why was her whole body trembling, shivering? Why was her belly all knotted up? Why was her heart beating so fast it was making it hard for her to properly breathe? 

"Riza" he said, sounding a lot more confident that he actually looked "I'll be back, okay?" his thumb stroked her skin and a thrill went down her spine, a pleasant one "So don't worry."

Again, the whole atmosphere turned weird. But not like this morning. It was all too different. Again, she couldn't identify the feeling. Again, she could feel it in her belly. Again, she wasn't the only one. There was something lurking in Roy's eyes. Something utterly beautiful yet… 

"Roy" her father knocked firmly on the door "Roy, are you ready? The car has arrived."

They both startled and he withdrew his hand from her face as quickly as he put it on in the first place. 

"Co-Coming" he answered a little too loudly, grabbing his suitcase firmly. 

"Is Riza with you?" 

A thrill went down her spine once more. This time, it wasn't a pleasant one. 

"Yes, sir" Roy asserted as he opened the door "She helped me pack."

"Okay" she caught her father's eyes and he looked in his direction as if he was barely seeing her "Come and bid Roy goodbye, would you, Riza?"

"Su-Sure, father."

Of course she would tell him goodbye. Of course she would watch the car take him away. Even if it hurt. Both the car and the woman that came to fetch him were different. This one woman was prettier, with her long silky blonde hair, her red lips, her blue eyes and her splendid black coat. Roy's eyes sparkled when he saw, his smile was so spontaneous, so bright Riza's heart clenched in her chest. It hurt, indeed. 

"My, my, Roy" the woman ruffled his hair playfully and he chuckled, a bit embarrassed "You've grown so tall" rubbed his shoulders even "And even grown some muscle too."

"Hannah" he scratched the back of his head "Please, stop."

"Silly me" she put a hand on her forehead "Where are my manners? Introduce me to your cute lady friend here."

The woman was beautiful and easygoing and stunning and touching him so easily. Whereas Riza was ugly and shy and clumsy and afraid when their fingers were just brushing. She could never compete. She could never. Look so radiant. Ruffle his hair. Rub his shoulders. Talk to him so casually. Never. 

And only then she knew. 

How long those twenty-one days would be. 


	8. Domum redi, familiae ades (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come home, be with your family

He had missed that. The lovely, specific, heavy with tobacco atmosphere of the bar. The girls, so loud and giggling, all around him, ruffling his hair, testing the muscles of his arms. He had missed that, the mischievous and yet warm smirk his aunt was always giving him. He had missed that. Home. Even if he hated having to leave Riza behind. 

"Look who's here" Madam Christmas glanced in his direction "The boy wonder."

"Please" he chuckled, taking off his coat "I'm far from being great already" he sighed as he sat and rested his elbows on the counter "And my master is really demanding" he rubbed his face "I'm afraid I've still a lot to learn."

"How is it going?" she frowned with concern "With Hawkeye?" she pulled a plate from under the desk "Here, I've made you your favorite. You must be starving."

Yes, he was. He was starving. Starving for great food. Great greasy food. With cheese and meat. The meals back there were awfully frugal, no matter how many times he had offered his master to help with the groceries. He could remember the deadly glare he gave him, a deadly dare the memory of was enough to make him shiver. 

"He's alright" he munched on his food a little too ravenously "Cold, distant and demanding but alright. I've learnt a lot already" but, damn, such food at last "I can transmute bigger objects, now. And I've gotten more precise as well. I can show you later, if you want."

"Jeez, Roy-boy, calm down, the food isn't going to disappear" as expected of her, she noticed everything "I'm starting to question if he is really feeding you properly."

"Sorry" he wiped his mouth "He is. It's just very… spartan, to say the least."

Food. Perhaps he could bring Riza some of his aunt's great food. Except he wanted to give her something that could last a little more than a slice of meat. He sighed, brought his forehead against his hands. What could he bring back to the girl that cried when he left? He didn't even know what she'd like, mysterious, secretive and skittish as she always was. 

"Roy" she drummed her fingers before him to catch his attention "You're sure you're not lying? I know he is said to be the best alchemist around but there is no teaching that justifies enduring…"

"He's alright" he let out a deep sigh, waved an annoyed hand "With me, he's alright."

"With you" she lit one cigarette in a swift gesture "But not with his daughter… am I right?"

He gritted his teeth. Thank goodness the woman was so sharp, he wouldn't have to voice something like that, struggling to find metaphors or understatements that would be revealing enough. 

"Riza" he whispered "Her name is Riza."

"And her father? Is he…?" her brows narrowed some more. 

"I don't know" he pinched the bridge of his nose "I…"

He hadn't actually witnessed anything. He had no proof. Just a bad feeling. A really bad feeling that was only increasing now he had left her behind. Idiot! Stupid idiot! 

"Roy" his aunt swiftly put a comforting hand on his arm "If he is, if you have any doubt…"

He knew. He knew she would do something to help her. It wouldn't be the first time she'd rescue an helpless girl from an abusive environment. He wasn't stupid. Or blind. He had seen the look on every girl's face on the very first day they arrived. That haunted look, afraid of everything and everyone. How could he not notice? The look, sometimes the bruises. He knew. What his foster mother was actually doing in this  _ castle _ of hers. No doubt she would also take Riza in if the situation required it. She wouldn't hesitate. 

"I don't know" he repeated, sighed in annoyance "I haven't actually seen anything." 

Except she had that attitude. Always. She was jumpy, skittish, easily set on edge, afraid each time his gestures became a little too brisk, raising her arms to protect herself. Always. She was trying to please her father, tending to his every need. Trying to please him even, though Roy wasn't actually asking her anything. And she was frightened, too frightened, each time she was failing - or was thinking she was failing - to do what was asked of her. Yes, she had this attitude. This attitude he knew by heart. For he had witnessed it too many times. In every girl, on their first days, when they were still uncomfortable with the place, with the madam. He shouldn't have left her. He should have never left her. 

"I…" he rubbed his closed eyelids, it hurt "I don't know" he chuckled "What if I'm wrong?" stared at his hands, before him "What can I do?"

He was powerless. So powerless. As if his presence was changing anything! She couldn't smile, she could just cry. He was powerless. Utterly powerless. And it hurt. Damn, it really hurt. 

"You're a good boy, Roy" Hannah intervened as she ruffled his hair tenderly "I saw how you look at her" pinched his cheek tenderly "You like her, don't you?"

"Wh-What?"

He stammered, his face became all red and once more he was afraid he would spontaneously catch fire. Just like that time, when his master asked him if he had any interest in her daughter. Except Hannah's eyes were a lot warmer than his. Except, in her mouth, it didn't sound like a reproach. It sounded almost like a… good thing? 

"Oh?" he didn't like how his aunt's brow arched all of a sudden "So you've been hiding things from us, Roy-boy?"

"I-I don't" he raised both hands clumsily "I me-mean, I…"

Yes. Yes, he liked her. She was beautiful, always. Her short blonde hair, her round brown eyes. He liked being around her, talking with her, cooking with her. What was wrong about that? He was raised around women, he was doing those kinds of things with women all the time. Except, when it came to her, he was always feeling clumsy and embarrassed. 

"Don't worry" she squeezed his shoulders tenderly "You're a good person. If you act with her the way you act with us, always kind, always smiling, always here to help" her words, somehow, were making his heart race faster "Then she is a very lucky girl" she patted him gently "Believe me."

Was she? Was she really lucky? He had left her. She had cried, she had looked at him so intensely, obviously afraid to be left alone once again and he still left. She should be there. She should be there, with him. Meeting his aunt, meeting the girls. Seeing the town a little bit, getting nice things to eat. Yes. He should have offered. She should be there. With him. 

"Can I…?" come on, why was it so hard to ask? "Can I bring her here next time?"

"Sure" Madam Christmas grinned, lightening another cigarette "Introduce us your girlfriend anytime."

His what? 


	9. Puella quae expectat (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl that awaits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late, with the holidays I'm quite busy

Riza was looking by the window once again. Staring at the horizon, at the exact point where the road met the mountains, waiting for any sign of smoke that would announce a car. But there was none. There was none and the sky was clear. And blue. And the air was hot. So hot it was trembling. He should be back today. She had calculated, each and every day, each and every hour, each and every minute. He should come back today. Though it was a long way from his hometown and he might only arrive in the late afternoon. No, no. Riza shook her head. She could wait. He should come back today. She could definitely wait. 

So she looked by the window. Stared at the horizon, at the exact point where the road met the mountains, waiting for any sign of smoke that would announce a car. 

She waited. For hours. 

Late afternoon indeed. 

She stood up briskly, ran around the corridors, down the stairs. She was about to open the door just as swiftly but stopped at the last second to tug on her worn out clothing, rearrange the messy locks that were falling before her eyes. She caught her reflection in a window glass and averted her eyes in reflex. It wouldn't change anything. She wasn't pretty, she couldn't compete with all those beautiful women Roy was raised by. Sure, he was often saying that she was. Pretty. But he was merely being polite. 

What would he think of her disheveled looks, after being around beautiful women for days? He would be disgusted, would he? 

"Riza" she startled when she heard her father call from the upper floor "Don't stare at the door and go help Roy with his luggage, would you?"

She nodded, obliged. The sun was bright at this hour and she had to put a hand on her forehead to take a proper look at him. He was smiling, as always. A smile that was brighter than the sun. The woman he was with today was different once again. Just as beautiful as the others, with her silk long brown hair and her makeup. Not to mention her dress. Riza looked down, at her own outfit that had been too patched up over the years. He would be disgusted, wouldn't he? 

"Riza" he waved at her and she blushed "Riza, sorry I'm late. The traffic was terrible" he was gentle and nice, as always "Can you give me a hand, please? I think I went a little overboard."

"Told you" the woman sighed as she pulled a suitcase that seemed terribly heavy out of the truck "Aren't you ashamed, making a woman carry your stuff?" she slapped him behind the head and Riza's body went all rigid "I've raised you better than that, Roy-boy."

Raised? So this woman was… the aunt he was talking that much about? She seemed a little… rude, hitting him like that and Riza didn't quite like it. 

"Don't call me that" he whined, rubbing the back of his head "I'm not a kid anymore" he sighed "And you said I could pack another suitcase since we have the car and…"

"And now show me those muscles you have been bragging about while us ladies discuss a bit" did Roy's cheeks just… flush? "And give that to Mr. Hawkeye" she handed him a thick envelope. 

"Madam, this is…"

"None of your concern" she lit a cigarette "Come closer, little lady" she waved a hand in her direction "I don't bite."

Despite her attitude towards her nephew, her smile was really bright. As bright as his. And their lips were curving the exact same way. Yes, she was indeed the woman who raised him, no mistake. Riza nodded, taking a few steps forward as she kept her eyes on the dusty road. What could this woman want with her? And why was she letting Roy struggle with those heavy suitcases? 

"Ple-Pleased to meet you, ma'am" Riza bowed her head even more. 

"Chris" she blew out some smoke in a very refined gesture "You can call me Chris. Roy told me a lot about you" she sighed "He forgot to mention you were a cute little lady, though."

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks once more. Come on, why were they all saying she was pretty? Even that woman who was so gorgeous? She wasn't. She brought her hands to her chest. She wasn't. She wasn't pretty. Why were they all lying to her? 

"He also voiced concern" her voice had become serious all of a sudden "About your way of life" what was she saying? "And your father."

Riza wasn't understanding. Riza wasn't understanding anything. Sure, her father was strange but if she did as he asked he mostly left her alone. What did Roy say? And why did he even tell about her to people she didn't know? For some reason, it hurt and was making her want to cry. 

"I-I'm fine" she rolled her eyes, not to burst before a stranger "Ro-Roy is nice" it was weird, to say his name for the first time "He worries a lot and" Riza raised her hands in embarrassment "My father doesn't have much money, I guess it's strange for him to see us living like that" she forced a smile "He-he always tries to make things better and…" she should stop talking, shouldn't she? "Buying us expensive food and all but…"

"You've heard that, Roy-boy?" she purred and Riza tensed again "She said you're nice."

"Of course, I'm nice" he smugly scoffed "I'm a gentleman, you know" though his cheeks were still a little flushed "My master sends his regards" he shoved his hands in his pockets "He apologizes for not being able to receive you but he is trying to fix a very complex formula and…" true, her father had barely left his office in days "I don't want to break his focus. He thanks you for the money, though."

Oh. So that was what the big envelope was. 

"It's alright" she glanced at him "I should go then, I've quite the long way back home" rubbing her shoulders "By the way, Roy-boy, your lady friend is really fine, feel free to invite her anytime."

And that time Riza was positive his face flushed and she tilted her head in surprise, not really understanding why he was embarrassed. They were friends, weren't they? 

"Madam, I told you not to call me that" he gritted his teeth "You can go now."

"Sure" she purred "Take care, Riza" she got in her car "And, Roy, keep being nice." 

"I'm always nice" he mumbled, scratching the back of his head "Come, Riza."

He swiftly grabbed her hand and dragged her inside, a little too briskly, the embarrassment perhaps. Again, her heart was beating fast against her ribcage. 

"I've something for you."

So so fast. 


	10. Pulchra puella (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pretty girl

"I've something for you."

He grabbed her hand, her hand with her characteristic calloused fingers from so much work and dry skin she was never taking care of. Damn, how much of an idiot could he be? He should have brought her cream as well,how could he forget? He grabbed her hand, firmly, dragging her inside, not looking back. Not even when he heard Madam Christmas tell him goodbye. No, he wouldn't look back. He wouldn't give her the chance of seeing his flushed embarrassed face. She had teased him all the time he had stayed with her: it was enough. So he grabbed Riza's hand and dragged up inside. Up the stairs. Up to his room. Hurriedly. Too hurriedly. It was the same all over again: around her, he couldn't hide both his eagerness and embarrassment. 

"Here."

He kept his head low, handing her a huge paper bag. Okay, okay. Maybe he had gone a little over the top, maybe. But it was too late to give them back. And he would have no use for any of those anyway. 

"Sir, this is…"

"For you" he insisted, almost showing the bag under her face "A gift."

She took the handles shyly, their fingers brushing, sending a thrill down his spine and making her twitch imperceptibly, the paper making a soft sound. He immediately stepped back, looked at her. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to see her face so he would know. If he had guessed her size right, if the color was truly matching her complexion. And, more importantly, if she liked it. He had expected eagerness for her father never offered her anything. But she was careful and slow, kneeling on the floor so she could pull the clothing out, unfold it before her eyes. At least the color was, indeed, matching her complexion. As for the size, well, hard to tell when she was still on her knees. 

"Sir" her voice quivered "I…"

He had expected eagerness. For her father never offered her anything. He should have expected tears as well. For they were flooding her face right now. He swiftly reached for his inner pocket, a bit clumsily also, but, by the time he held out his handkerchief, she was already up and exiting the room, running. Up. Leaving. Running. Shit. That was too much, wasn't that? He offered her a dress. A dress. To her, who never received gifts of any kind. Of course it was too much. What an idiot, hand cream was probably a much better plan. He signed, rubbed his forehead. Perhaps he should have picked something else, something less stunning. Flowers. Food. Something less impressive. He paced the room erratically. Idiot, stupid idiot. He just wanted to make her smile. Smile, not cry. 

"Sir?"

Wait, was she…? He raised his head in her direction and his eyes widened suddenly. Oh yes, he did guess her size right. And blue truly was her color, the contrast with her blonde hair was perfect. Though she was needing a haircut, even if there was something utterly endearing about her messy locks going in every direction. She was beautiful. Gorgeous. Perfect. He opened his mouth in awe, suddenly at a complete loss for words. 

"Sir, is this alright?" she grabbed her dress nervously, swirled around as if to check if it was falling properly "I mean, I've never…" she passed a hand alongside the fabric "I don't know. I'm not really sure…"

You're so beautiful, Riza Hawkeye. 

"It's really great, Riza" he picked the paper bag from the floor, keeping his head down so she wouldn't see he was as embarrassed as she was "You're very pretty" he handed her the bag once again "And with those you'll be splendid."

"Mo-More, sir?" she brought her hands to her chest before she shyly took the bag "You shouldn't have…"

"Ah, it's alright" he scratched the back of his head "It's nothing much."

Nothing much, really. Merely accessories. But he was a gentleman: he couldn't offer her a dress like that without the shoes to complete the outfit. He let out a deep sigh. He really went over the top, didn't he? His aunt had warned him though he had spent all his money in the end. 

"Again, I had to guess your size so I hope… Riza, wait!"

She had already tried them on and, even if those heels weren't that high, she was struggling to keep her balance up, putting her hand on the wall so she wouldn't make too much a fool of herself. A dress that made her cry, heels she was struggling to stand up in. For a gentleman, he was quite bad at picking gifts for a pretty woman. He rushed to her and threw a gentle arm around her shoulders. He expected her body to tense and was ready to readjust his hands if needed but, to his very surprise, she leaned against him a bit to steady herself, grabbing his arm fully. 

"Sorry, sir" she giggled "I guess I'll have to practise, I'm so clumsy."

"Don't be, I'm the one to apologize" he smiled at her "I should have known shoes like those were…"

"I like them" she added quickly though she stumbled once more "This is the prettiest gift I never had, I…" tears filled her eyes again, her eyes that were sparkling with joy "Thank you, sir." 

He hadn't expected it. Because she could never call him by his name. Because she was always skittish. Because any kind of physical contact seemed to frighten her to the core. So he hadn't been expecting it. Her, suddenly grabbing him by the neck, a little too tight, and kissing him on the cheek. Well, kissing. Her mouth collided with his face so fast and violently she probably hurt herself a bit in the process but her lips made contact with his skin. Her lips. On his skin. And Roy could only stand still, completely dumbfounded. 

"So-Sorry" she tried to back off quickly but the heels were impeding her "I-I didn't mean to… I'm… I don't…"

"Hey, hey, it's alright" he grabbed her arm to prevent her from spraining an ankle "It's alright, Riza" damn, his heart was beating so fast he could even talk properly "I-I don't mind."

And her eyes. Her beautiful sparkling eyes. Ah, come on. He had said he wanted to make her smile, not cry. Now, her face was caught between both. 

"I don't mind" he whispered once more, running a gentle hand through her hair "Really, I don't."

And, as if to prove her he was telling the truth, he kissed her on the cheek as well. Slowly, gently. Just a quick peck. Her skin there was much softer than her hands. 

"Everything is fine" his lips curved into a small smile. 

And so did hers. Yes, everything was fine. 

Because you're so very beautiful, Riza Hawkeye. 


	11. Novi capilli tondendi (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new haircut

"Riza" her father called and she tensed, moving her bangs away nervously "You should cut your hair" he sipped on his coffee "It's falling before your eyes, it'll ruin your sight."

"Y-Yes, father" she lowered her head "Sh-Should I cut yours too?"

"Mine can wait" he put down his cup in a firm clank, got up swiftly "I'll be in my office, if you need me, Roy."

"Yes, master."

She kept her head down until she was sure he had gone. Cut her hair. He asked her to cut her hair. He had noticed, hadn't he? That she was trying to grow it out. That she was trying to look a little more like those gorgeous women Roy was looking at with such sparkles in his eyes. To look a little more like them, a little prettier so he would kiss her cheek, once again. He had noticed, hadn't he, her father? 

"Riza" Roy put a gentle hand on her arm "He's right" smiled at her softly "It's hiding most of your pretty face and that's a shame" he moved her bangs away "A new haircut would be nice."

"A haircut?" Riza moved away in reflex "But I've cissors, sir, I can cut it myself."

She had always been doing it herself. She had always been cutting it herself. For her father, spending money on a haircut would be nothing but a waste and she would never dare to do something as dangerous as opposing him. He was right, after all. They couldn't afford to spend money on unnecessary things when they could barely make ends meet. Even with his pupil's money. But she also knew Roy Mustang by now. And how stubborn he could be. 

"Nonsense" he ruffled her hair playfully "New dress, new shoes… You need a haircut that goes with this new look" he added dreamily. 

But she also knew Roy Mustang by now. And how good he was at always finding the right words. 

"Sir" she glanced at him "The money…"

But she also knew Roy Mustang by now. And what his answer on this matter always was, no matter the costs. 

"None of you concern" he waved his hand in annoyance, as if to chase the nonsensical remark away "I'm offering."

"B-But" she lowered her head some more, her cheeks blushing "I don't know what to do with it and…"

And she wanted it long. Long, silky and shiny. So he would look at her with sparkles in his eyes too. What a silly dream. She wasn't one of those beautiful women he had been evolving around. A cute dress, some classy heels or a new haircut wouldn't metamorphose her, the ugly Riza Hawkeye, into one of those beautiful creatures he had spent his childhood with. She tugged on her top nervously. She wasn't understanding why he was insisting so much. She wasn't understanding why he was always insisting. She knew he wasn't at ease, not anymore. He was blushing, stuttering, acting clumsily. She couldn't understand. Why he wasn't saving himself the embarrassment. Why he wasn't staying with his books, just like her father. 

"I saw a picture of a woman, in the newspaper" he hurriedly pulled a crumpled sheet out of his pocket "It's a bit unusual but" he scratched his cheeks nervously "I think it'd suit you."

She brought the page swiftly before her, glanced at the picture and her eyes widened suddenly. No. No way. Unusual, he said. An understatement. She never saw women with hair that short. Only men. No. No. That wouldn't match the pretty dress he gave her, never! 

"You don't like it" he let out in a big sigh "I should have expected that, you don't see a lot of women with short hair after all."

"I… I appreciate, sir, but I don't think this…"

Though the female officer on that newspaper looked stern and proud and fierce. Strong. She looked strong. And, even if Riza was somehow pleased he had been thinking of her, that military woman who was exhaling natural authority was nothing like her. A pretty dress she wasn't daring to wear, shoes she couldn't walk with. Now a haircut that wasn't fitting her personality. He wasn't so good at understanding the people surrounding him, that boy who could decipher complex alchemical formulas. 

"My bad, I thought it'd suit you" his lips curved sadly "Since you're always running around the house, I thought short hair would be more practical. Because you wouldn't have to worry about combing it, dressing it so it wouldn't come in the way" he explained dreamily, his cheeks blushing a little "And you have pretty eyes" he started at the table "You shouldn't hide them."

Wh-What? She lowered her head so much it almost hit the table. What did he say? Pretty eyes? But they were just… boring brown. His were prettier. Black and luminous. And this woman's too were beautiful, what was her name again? Anna? Whatever. She had those deep blue eyes. Deep blue eyes just like the summer skies. So how could he could call hers beautiful? He was just being nice again, wasn't he? 

"Riza" he called her name so softly she shivered "It's your hair. Yours" he smiled charmingly, very charmingly "Just do what you want, okay?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

But in the end she found herself in the bathroom, standing before the mirror. With a pair of scissors in her hand. Because, even if she wanted to grow it out, even if she wanted to try something new, if her father told her to cut her hair, she would cut her hair. She would never dare to disobey him. The sole thought was enough to make her hand tremble. Except, when she brought the scissors up to her first lock, she stopped. She stopped and couldn't cut it. Her hair. She couldn't cut her hair in that messy form, that sole messy form she was managing to perform. She couldn't. She no longer wanted to. He offered her a pretty dress. Pretty shoes. She couldn't. She had to make efforts. Be worthy of that dress. Worthy of those shoes. Her. The ugly Riza Hawkeye. 

"Sir" she knocked on the door shyly "Mr. Mustang, sir, I…"

"What is it?" he turned around swiftly, sending a few papers flying "Is something the matter?"

Why was he always so concerned about her, she still wondered. He seemed genuinely worried, each time she was coming in when he wasn't expecting her. 

"Do you happen to know" she leaned against the door "A hairdresser?" his brows narrowed as his eyes widened some more "I want to try that haircut you…"

That haircut you chose for me, Roy. 

"S-Sure" he scratched the back of his head "We can go downtown but… will your father?"

"It'll be alright, sir" her voice became a whisper "I can't cut it myself right now and…"

Her whole body was shaking. And he said she needed to cut her hair. He never said anything about changing her style a bit. So, technically, she wasn't disobeying. So, technically… 

"It'll be alright" she repeated. 


	12. Amici semper curant (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends always care

Times were difficult. Not because of the lack of money, not quite. But because Roy had started to seriously question his master's doings, especially his attitude towards his own daughter and pupil. He was teaching him alright, Berthold Hawkeye, and Roy had been making quite some progress: he was grateful to him for it. But, on the other hand, he had those outbursts that came out of nowhere. First was when Riza showed up with her new haircut. Her new haircut that suited her so well, doing justice to her sparkling brown eyes and her softly round cheeks. Her new haircut that made her look so pretty Roy's fingers had been shaking when he opened his wallet and he did mess up with the money, giving first too little and then too much. She looked so pretty and he had been naive enough to think seeing his daughter like this would make his master overlook the disobedience. 

A fool. 

He had been angry. Consumed by cold anger, no matter how paradoxical this might sound from someone working on fire alchemy. He had been angry and, since it was his idea, Roy took all the blame. Riza tried to take his defense but he opposed his master, frowning with such resolve, Hawkeye agreed to punish him and not his daughter. Being his student, punishment were more complex formulas and awfully hard physical exercises but he managed to pull through. If he were to be honest, he managed to pull through mostly because Riza had been standing by his side the whole time. Pouring him coffee, offering him a slice of cake, wiping the sweat off his forehead or handing him a glass of water. She was here. She was always here. Looking at him with such guilty eyes as if to say sorry. Dammit. How could things end that way? He just wanted to do something nice for her, not create more tension in the household. And he was young and naive and he didn't want to pick a side in a fight that was merely starting. 

A fool. 

It was around that time a breakdown in communication occurred between Roy Mustang and his master, a breakdown he would never be able to patch up. They started to disagree, on a lot of things. Riza, for one of them. The status of State Alchemists, for another. Because Roy wasn't understanding. When officers came to offer him to join the military, talking about money in amounts so big it was making the young kid he was dizzy and Riza so uncomfortable, Hawkeye merely turned them down, blathering something about not needing a collar around his neck. Roy wasn't understanding. The military existed to serve and protect. Alchemy was made to help the people. Therefore, becoming a State Alchemist would feel like the most logical conclusion. Not to mention it would solve the whole money matter that was worrying Riza so much. Roy wasn't understanding. So around that time, breakdown occurred. And nothing could bring them back together anymore. 

For Berthold Hawkeye was cynically aware. 

And Roy just a young naive fool. 

He tried though, he tried to reconstruct the fragile weird bond he had with his master. He struggled, hard. Worked harder than what was asked of him, did research on his own, trained his body so hard. But never Hawkeye looked at him the same. Never. And in his mouth Roy was hearing the most dreadful words, words that were making him want to cry and yell in frustration. 

"You are not worthy of my research."

Words that made him send the sheets and books on his desk flying. Words that made him punch at the wall or slam his fists on the table. Words that made him angry, so angry. Consumed by an anger that was, for his part, nothing cold. Words that made her worried, so worried. Because she was there, by his side. She always was there. Looking at him with such care and tenderness in her eyes it was enough to make him forget how angry and frustrated he was. Enough to make him hope he'd find a way. But also enough to remind him he had someone to protect. Someone he could no longer afford to lose. 

Riza. 

He made efforts. He made tremendous efforts. Trying to mold himself into the perfect student his master wanted him to be. Trying to follow his every advice, to obey his every command. Except the bond, their bond that was always so fragile, had been broken. And since that day Roy voiced he was interested in becoming a State Alchemist things never were the same. Things never were the same and never went back to normal. And he felt powerless, stupid. All the more guilty when he was seeing tears feeling Riza's eyes if he ever made the mistake of raising his voice against his master's injustice. Or, at least, at that time, what he thought was injustice. 

"I'm sorry, Riza" back then, he was apologizing more times than he could have counted "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled, I…"

"It's alright, sir" back then, she was always finding the strength to curve her lips into the saddest smile "I know my father can be… stubborn, and complicated."

Until that one night she said words so strong he never forgot them. 

"But I'm on your side, Mr. Mustang."

Until that one night she said words so strong they were making his heart beat like crazy against his ribcage. He wasn't an idiot, at least not always. He knew she took a liking in him. Nevertheless he never expected her to actually pick sides. Or for her shaking hand to shyly grab his. Or for her trembling lips to end up on his cheeks once more, a little more confident this time. 

"I'm on your side and I'll always be."

"Riza…"

He wasn't an idiot, at least not always. He was aware they were having a moment. He was aware the words she had said weighed as much as a confession of love. He was aware that, as a man, as a gentleman even, he was supposed to act on it. To kiss her. Except all he could actually do was to stutter, ruffle her hair and stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers. Except, gentleman or not, he could never bring himself to actually kiss her. A gentleman, uh? More like a coward. 

"Riza" and all he could do was repeating her name, over and over again "Riza, I…"

"It's alright, sir" and, for the first time, there was something new in her frowning face "I'm on your side" in her big round fierce eyes "I'll always be on your side."

And, for the first time, she sounded a lot more confident than he was. Even if her arms were still shaking when they wrapped around him. He was aware. He was aware they were having a moment. And yet all he could do was to hug back just as clumsily. 

Riza, I… love you. 

And yet all he could do was to remain silent. 


	13. Mundus albus factus est (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world had turned white

Riza opened her eyes and blinked. Once, twice. It felt weird. Something felt weird and yet she couldn't identify the cause properly. So she blinked again, as if this sole gesture could help her see clearer. Her room was cold, real cold, but it always was during the long winter months, especially in the mornings, when the fire had died overnight. The light was strangely grey but it was just meaning the sky was cloudy outside. No, all those elements were part of the ordinary. A bit confused, still sleepy, not really wanting to leave the warmth and comfort of her bed, she gently got up and wrapped herself in one of her dad's old dressing gowns. The color had long faded (Riza couldn't even remember if it was red or brown in the first place) and there were many holes in the fabric, more or less patched with whatever came to hand first, but it was keeping her warm all the same. She put the heavy clothing on, rolling the too long sleeves up her arms. If there was a time she was used to wearing whatever her father seemed fit for her to wear, the presence of Roy had made it harder and harder for her to cope with the poverty of her outfits. Especially after he gave her such a beautiful dress and shoes. 

Ugly. She was still ugly.

No matter all the efforts she was pulling.

She shook her head to chase the intrusive thought and her footsteps creaked a little too loudly on the wooden floor. Though she had been careful. As careful as usual. Then, she realized. What felt off. Everything was silent. Too silent. As if the house was empty. As if the world outside was empty. She rubbed her neck and sighed, exhaling a tiny cloud of white foam, tiptoeing to reduce the sound she was making almost to none, focusing on making her way out of her room quietly. She wasn’t daring to break the solemn silence that had entered their wrecked home. Her father and Roy worked on a complex formula until pretty late: she had heard them arguing and processing (or at least trying to) about stuff and elements she couldn't really understand. So, yes, they had worked late and she didn't want to wake them up. Passing by the window, the light pouring in was so strangely bright she couldn't help glancing outside. And then she saw. Why everything was silent. Too silent. 

It was snowing. 

It was snowing and the whole landscape outside was covered in a thick layer of pure white snow. Riza brought her face and her hands to the cold window glass, her hot skin giving birth to foam, as she stared in awe. They were having snow every winter and yet, every winter, she was just as mesmerized. Fascinated by the flakes slowly falling down in their characteristic soft sound. Fascinated by how a world so colorful was so simply made all black and white. Fascinated by how she had caught herself thinking the sun would show up so she could take a walk outside, build a snowman, make snowballs even. With Roy. 

Roy. 

Again.

She lowered her head, feeling her cheeks blush as she moved away from the window. It was always the same. Since that day she told him she was on his side, she could no longer think of Roy Mustang without her heart racing or her face becoming all flushed. Sure, he mattered to her. He mattered to her a lot. To put things simply, she couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving her, even for the smallest thing like going for the groceries. But Riza didn't quite know what to do with that information, let alone how to deal with it. So she often tagged along, following him around like a little pet and, if he didn’t seem to mind, she was. Minding. She was minding because she had the strange feeling she was missing on something important. Something important she couldn’t put a name on. And, for the very first time of her life, she openly blamed her father for it. 

If she had been properly taken care of, she would have been able to properly deal with a person she liked.

She couldn’t help the thought. She couldn’t help the blame. It felt all so logical.

What a terrible daughter she was, Riza Hawkeye. 

She went down to prepare breakfast. Merely to keep her mind busy. Merely not too reflect too much on how great the sight of this beautiful man in the snow would be. Merely not to wonder too much about why she was always terribly drawn to him and yet at the same time afraid she could just act clumsily. So she went down to prepare breakfast. Merely to set her confused mind on the most practical thing. Water. Coffee. Bread. Eggs, maybe. Butter, if they had any left. Porridge, perhaps. With milk if they were lucky. With water if they weren’t. The trick worked its magic for a while. But every spell is meant to be broken. 

“Good morning, Riza.”

She struggled. She struggled hard not to startle, not to make a fool of herself by dropping a knife or pouring coffee onto the countertop instead of in the cup that was made for it. She struggled. But she did drop that knife. But she did spill coffee, not on the countertop but on her hand. Though he was nice to her, just like he always was. He picked up the knife, wiped the coffee off her skin so she wouldn't get burnt and, when she offered him to take a walk outside, in the snow, he made a joke about how a future Fire Alchemist such as himself shouldn't play with water but in the end he agreed to go and build a snowman in the yard with her. 

Him. 

With her. 

Luckily the outside air was cold and the cheeks of both of them were red and she could hide how embarrassed she was once more. Luckily, snow was galore in the area and, even if she had made none lately, being bored of doing such a tiring activity all alone in the cold, Riza had become quite good at it and, for the first time, she was the one to teach Roy something. To teach him how to build a proper basis, to teach him how to make the perfect snowball. To teach him that even an alchemist promised to wield fire could have fun playing with water. 

"Jeez, Riza" he wiped the snow off his face "Your aim is so deadly it's unfair."

True, she was good at it. She had spent countless time training, hitting still targets with rocks, smaller and smaller targets as she was making progress. And Roy Mustang, even if he was, strictly speaking, a moving target, was a bigger one than those she was accustomed to. So yes, she was good. She was really good. To be honest, she was winning. 

"Don't take me lightly just because I'm a girl, sir."

And her lips curved into a mischievous smile. 


	14. Vehemens hostis (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tough opponent

It had snowed. It had snowed overnight and Roy was staring by the window. It wasn't his first time seeing the snow but it was striking differently in the countryside. In the city, it was turning all brown and messy. Never did it stay white for long and lucky were the children who managed to build a snowman or get into a snowball fight before it did. Only parks were more or less left untouched. Though, here, it was white. Just white everywhere. 

"Here's your coffee, sir."

"Ah, thank you."

She seemed pretty joyful today. Her cheeks were beautifully rosy and, even if it was maybe just circumstantial, her lips were curved into a soft smile. Her hand that handed him the cup wasn't shaking as much as it used to, though she dropped a knife and spilled coffee on her hand earlier on. Perhaps she liked the snow. Perhaps she was finding peace in that calm weather. 

"It really snowed" he just stated, to gauge her reaction. 

"Yeah, it did" she scratched her cheek a little "It always does here" she glanced outside "I hope it calms down a little so you could see how beautiful it is here during the winter season."

He was right. She loved the snow. She loved the snow and her eyes were sparkling. He'd like that too. He'd like for the weather to calm down so she could enjoy herself in the snow. So he could see her enjoy herself in the snow. He lowered his head a bit, feeling his cheeks blush a little and his lips smile on their own. Ah, dammit. He was really getting worked up over the littlest things, wasn't he? 

"What is it, sir?" she tilted her head to get a better look at his face and she was always so cute when she was doing that "Don't you like the snow?"

So cute he just wanted to tell her. That he'd do anything to make her smile. 

"I…" he ruffled his hair to regain his composure "A future Fire Alchemist such as myself" was he, though, when his master was still calling him unworthy? "Shouldn't play with water."

And, honestly, he was really proud of that pun. 

"Do you mean that you… are not fond of the snow?"

But, sadly, it was still too early for puns. Sadly, she was still thinking, somehow, he would get away from her for any reason. And Roy couldn't understand why she was thinking that way. Or how to make her think otherwise. 

"No" he chuckled, shaking his head "It was a joke. With the proverb being to play with fire and such" he sighed "Maybe it wasn't a good one."

"No" she swiftly put a hand on his forearm, as if to reassure him "It's good, it's just me who…"

Again, the self-depreciation. He gritted his teeth, clicked his tongue. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand it anymore. The snow. He had to get her out in the snow. Get her somewhere she was feeling confident.

"Riza" he passed a gentle hand in her hair, her short hair that suited her so well "It has calmed down a little, do you want to go outside?"

"Ah, yes!" that kind of enthusiasm "Just let me get everything ready for my father's breakfast and I'll…" that kind of excitement "I'll be ready in a minute, okay?"

And her eyes were sparkling. With a light he wished that never went out. 

You're amazing, you know, Riza Hawkeye. 

To be honest, Roy never enjoyed the snow that much. Like he said, he only experienced it in the city where it's messy and impeding. He wasn't as hyped as she was but he assumed a snowman could be funny. And if it wasn't, he could still use alchemy. Though he wasn't sure she'd enjoy a snow fight. He sighed. What was he so nervous about? 

"No, sir, you need to make it bigger or it would never stand."

"Again?" 

He sighed, wiping the sweat of his forehead. That whole thing was more tiring than he first thought and he couldn't help thinking using alchemy would be a lot easier. But he never gave up. He never gave up. He never gave up because he could never stand the idea of being beaten by solidified water. But also because he really liked how Riza looked right now. With her cheeks, red from the cold. With her gloved hands, helping him to get the whole thing done. With her voice firm, giving him orders. Yes, she definitely was at ease outside her house. And he would not deprive her of this moment. 

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

He turned his head in her direction and the least thing he expected was to receive a snowball right in the face. It was light, well-made so it didn't hurt but he blinked in surprise. Okay. Okay, so she was in for that. He smirked, gathered snow clumsily in his gloves and it turned out he also needed her assistance for that. Except he was quicker at getting the hang of it. So he chased her, threw a few balls at her and she fought back. And he was quick to realize he wasn't hitting much. Whereas hers were hitting bullseye each and every time. She was indeed full of surprises. He liked that about her. 

"Jeez, Riza" he rubbed the snow off his head and brows "Your aim is so deadly it's unfair."

"Don't take me lightly because I'm a girl, sir."

What? He never even once did… His eyes widened. His eyes widened big. She was smiling. She was smiling at him. More than smiling. She was smirking. Mischievously. With a smirk that said she was definitely going in for the kill. Okay, okay, Riza Hawkeye. He'd get serious too. Real serious. He'd show her what Roy Mustang was made of. 

"Okay, Riza" he smirked as well "Just don't underestimate me because you've won so far."

"I would never, sir."

He didn't expect it to be like that. He just wanted her to smile, he never would have thought he'd actually hear giggle when she got snow in her hair and eyes. Or laugh when she tripped over a hidden rock and fell flat in the snow. And Roy was dumbfounded. She was beautiful, so beautiful. With her blonde hair shining bright in the middle of the snow. And again it felt it. That they were having a moment. A moment when she looked so beautiful he just wanted to kiss those lips on which a few snowflakes were still melting. 

"Sir?" she stood up quickly, got closer in an instant "Are you alright?" she put her hand on his arm once again and a thrill went down his spine "You look a little strange."

Well, he was also feeling strange. Warm and fuzzy. Despite the snow. And she was close. And she was beautiful. And she was smelling nice. And he just wanted to… He couldn't. It would just scare her, wouldn't it? 

"Sir?"

So he just rubbed her hair with the snow he was still holding in his hand. Turning his overwhelming feelings into childish play. 


	15. Dolor (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain

It hurt. It hurt so much. So much Riza couldn't hold back her tears. The pain. So much pain. She wanted to apologize. To apologize for not being enough. To apologize for being a bad daughter, picking Roy's side whereas she should have remained by her father's. Since he was family. Since Roy was a stranger. No, not a stranger. Not after all those years. Not a stranger but still an outsider. Her fault. All that pain was on her. Her fault. Hers. 

"Hold still, Riza. If I mess a single letter, it'll be ruined."

Her fingers curled into fists. Too much. It was too much. Her back was burning. Her back was burning and she just wanted him to stop. Just a tattoo, he said. The safest way to keep his formula secured. From the military. From his own pupil. It had been bearable, at first. Weird but bearable. The feeling of the needle slowly entering her skin. Except, as the long hours passed, her body could less and less take it. 

"Father" she feebly protested "I can't" tears silently streaming down her cheeks "No more."

"No" but he was stubborn like that, her father "It's nearly done" and the needle entered her skin again and again and again "I can't let evidence of this formula in the house."

And he coughed. Again and again and again. A cough that was getting more and more hollow. And she was a bad daughter, Riza Hawkeye. She was such a bad daughter for, in the midst of her hazy thoughts clouded with pain, she gave birth to the worst of thoughts. 

Die. 

Die die die die die die die die die ! 

She pressed the fabric of her top tighter against her chest, gritting her teeth some more as she felt her father's hand travel down her spine. Her whole back. He had been scribbling on her whole back. Disfigured. Now her body was disfigured. She wasn't ugly enough, apparently. He had to brand her back. Her whole back. And, this very moment, she just hated him. She just hated him for everything. She no longer wanted to apologize. 

Roy. 

She just wanted to see Roy. 

She just wanted to hear Roy say her name. 

Roy. 

She just wanted to be with Roy. 

Roy. 

Just Roy. 

"I'm done" he finally said and she blinked, not really sure the torture was, indeed, over "I'll have to apply an ointment in the following days so you'll heal properly."

Heal? Would she ever heal? It was feeling like her skin had been carved into. Her father was no professional and she highly doubted he even bothered to practice before. Leave. She just wanted him to leave. Except his touch now on her damaged back was gentle, careful. Almost kind. Kind. Her father. Some things weren't adding up. She sniffled as she dried her last tears. 

"You have to understand, Riza" this tone, once again "This formula is so dangerous it'll be disastrous if it'd fall in the wrong hands" she heard him get up, stretch "I strictly forbid you to show it to anyone else."

"Y-Yes, father" she shyly nodded. 

She jolted when he closed the door in a big slam. She shouldn't be surprised. He had always been like that, especially when he was in a frenzy. He never really cared or even looked at her. Sacrificing her back for the sake of his formula was very much like him. She shouldn't be surprised. She shouldn't be surprised and yet the tears that filled her eyes weren't caused by the pain of her burning skin. 

It hurt. It really hurt. 

That for her father, she would forever be a tool. 

And she hated him. 

And she wished he could die. 

She really was a bad daughter in the end. 

She moaned in pain as she got up. She fumbled with her clothing, tried to put her top back, failing, unable to lift her arms above her head. So she kept the fabric against her chest, hoping she wouldn't cross paths with Roy in the corridors. 

She didn't. 

She didn't and locked herself in her bedroom. Well, locked. The key had long been lost and the door wasn't even closing properly. She threw her top angrily on the floor, lied down on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. Surreal. The whole thing was feeling surreal. She was feeling light-headed, tired from the shock and having cried this much. She was exhausted and even fell asleep for she was woken up by small discreet knocks on her door. 

"Riza?" Roy. Roy's concerned voice "Riza, is everything alright? You didn't come down to have dinner with us and I'm a little worried."

Cute. He was so cute. Nice. He was always so very nice to her. 

"I'm" her own voice sounded so weird "I don't feel so good, I'm sorry, sir."

"May I come in?"

She'd like that. She'd like that very much. But she was still topless and he definitely couldn't see her looking so indecent. Not to mention the disastrous state of her back. 

"J-Just… Just a minute, sir."

She hissed as she passed her dressing gown on, feeling the fabric stick to the cream her father applied on her back. No. No, no, no. It'd be alright, even covered, right? She didn't ask and her father never said. 

"You can come in."

He carefully pushed the door open and she noticed he was frowning. She liked it, how his brows narrowed, how he looked at her, how he cautiously approached her. She liked him. She liked everything about him. Roy Mustang. 

"You cried" he stated "What happened?"

Except her father told her not to tell anyone about the forbidden formula. Except she couldn't tell him about the cross he embedded on her frail back. Except all she could do was to utter a single lie. 

"Father was angry with me" a single lie that didn't feel much like one "I-I am…"

"Again?" he gritted his teeth "I swear to God, I'll…" he threw a gentle arm around her shoulders and she tensed drastically as burning pain invaded her whole back "What is it?"

No, sir, don't. 

Don't ask. 

"Riza, what happened?"

No, no, no. 

"Riza, did he… hurt you?"

I told you not to ask! 

"Riza, if he did something, I…"

"Don't" she buried her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist so hurriedly he was the one to tense "Please don't" never her voice sounded so passionate "I can't… I really can't…"

"Hey, it's alright" he ruffled her hair tenderly, kissed her forehead "Sorry I pried, I…" pulled back a little, stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers "I just really hate it when he makes you cry."

He was beautiful. So beautiful. Even if his eyes were worried and his smile sad. He was beautiful. He had always been so beautiful. So, perhaps it was the exhaustion, perhaps it was the pain, but, instead of his cheek, this time, her lips found his lips. 


	16. Dulcis os ejus (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her sweet mouth

Riza. Where was Riza? He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. He hadn't seen her all day and had a bad feeling about it. Usually, she was always somewhere close, looking for spending time in his company and, honestly, Roy was missing that. He was missing her intense stares, the way she had to hide, her body leaning against the doorframe, her clumsy gestures, her stuttering voice, her blushing cheeks. Riza. Where was Riza? He hadn't seen his master either and, if he wasn't usually minding what he could do when Roy was left all alone with his equations, today was different. Today was different because he couldn't find Riza. And had a bad feeling about it. A bad feeling that only intensified when she didn't even show up for dinner. 

"Riza?" 

He knocked on her door softly. He had to check on her. To see (or at least hear) if everything was okay. She might be just sick, bedridden with the flu or a cold. Her father wouldn't have told him anything anyway. So he had to know. Just to be reassured, a little. To get rid of his bad feeling. 

"Riza, is everything alright? You didn't come down to have dinner with us and I'm a little worried."

Good. At least he was neutral in his choice of words. At least he hadn't sounded like he had been prying. 

"I'm" except her voice sounded exhausted, broken and sad "I don't feel so good, I'm sorry, sir."

She had been crying. She had been crying a whole lot. He could tell. That wasn't the tone of someone sick. He could tell. He had heard that strange voice too often, in his aunt's place. He could tell. What someone else's despair sounded like. So much for easing his bad feeling. 

"May I come in?"

Say yes, Riza. Please say yes. 

"J-Just… Just a minute, sir."

Great. At least she didn't say no. And her voice had become a little firmer after he offered. Great. He could be of help. Whatever was happening, it was something his presence could soothe. Or so he hoped. But, damn, his heart was beating so fast. 

"You can come in."

He resisted the urge to slam the door open, to rush by her side, to take her in his arms swiftly and hurl her against him. To make her feel safe. To dry her tears. He resisted the urge, opened the door slowly. And he saw. Her face. Her beautiful face. Swollen by intense crying. Still very beautiful. He frowned, clenched his fists. He didn't like it. He definitely didn't like it. 

"You cried" he stated, his voice a little colder than intended "What happened?"

She lowered her head, gripped on her gown nervously. She couldn't tell. It was so heavy she couldn't tell. Great. So much for easing his bad feeling, indeed. 

"Father was angry with me" she confessed in a low whisper and he clicked his tongue in anger "I-I am…"

"Again?" he gritted his teeth "I swear to God, I'll…"

He had meant to be gentle. He had meant to be gentle and caring. And they were long gone, the days when she was startling each time their skins accidentally made contact. So he didn't really understand why she drastically tensed when he threw his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. He didn't really understand. Until his brain connected the dots. Her father. Her father hurt her. He was sure of it. He needed proof of some kind, of course. But he was sure of it. 

"What is it?" except she couldn't tell "Riza, what happened?" and perhaps he shouldn't insist this much but… "Riza, did he… hurt you?" but he needed to know "Riza, if he did something, I…"

"Don't" she suddenly buried her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist so hurriedly he was the one to tense this time "Please don't" and there was something new in the way her voice was quivering "I can't… I really can't…"

Passion. It sounded like passion. And he liked how she was clinging onto him. Even if the anger didn't quite disappear. 

"Hey, it's alright" he lied, ruffling her hair tenderly, kissing her forehead "Sorry I pried, I…" pulled back a little, stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers "I just really hate it when he makes you cry."

She was splendid. It didn't matter if her hair was messed up, her eyes and nose all red, her face still swollen. It didn't matter if she was only wearing worn out clothes that weren't even suiting her. She was splendid. She was truly splendid. And, despite the way she had been staring at him, despite the look in her eyes, he couldn't foresee that. He couldn't foresee the hand tugging on his top or the trembling mouth crashing against his lips. 

A kiss. 

She was kissing him. Riza Hawkeye. 

A kiss. 

He blinked in astonishment. He had been expecting anything. Anything but that. She was clumsy. So clumsy. She probably never kissed anyone else before and her mouth collided against his, making their teeth shock. She moved a bit closer, at an obvious loss for what to do next as she pressed her lips a little more against his. Yes. She was terribly clumsy. And that was cute. That was so very cute. And to say he wasn't even the one to initiate it. 

His pride as a gentleman was really taking it hard. 

And he was just as clumsy as she was. Truth was he never kissed anyone else before either. He knew what was supposed to happen… in theory. He knew tongues were supposed to be involved but he wasn't sure Riza knew. Or wanted to. So he carefully brought her closer, frowned as he felt her shiver when his hands made contact with her back again. Berthold hurt her. Definitely. And he swore to God he would… He startled when he felt her tongue lick on his lower lip. So she knew. And wanted to. He parted his lips in reflex and let escape a little moan as their tongue made contact, erratically taking turns at each other. 

Riza. 

She was daring. She was really daring for a once wild animal he couldn't approach. His hands moved from her back to her head and she relaxed considerably when he ran his fingers through her soft hair. The kiss was getting better, less erratic, no longer that clumsy. She was good. So good. And he wished it would never stop. Except it did. Stop. For they were soon out of breath. 

"I…" she pulled back, averted her eyes, confused "I am… Y-You…"

He should say it. He should definitely say it. Now was the right time. He should tell her. That he loved her. That she was his most precious. 

"Riza, I…" he moved a few bangs away from her forehead "You know I…" tell her "I am" tell her you love her "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

You goddamn coward! 


	17. Insculptum tergum (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her engraved back

The bathroom was cold. The bathroom had always been terribly cold. As long as she could remember, Riza never dwelled much in there. At least not naked. Today was different. Today, she was trying to see what she was looking like. Cold bathroom or not. She needed to see. What her father had done to her. The mirror was old and broken, she had to tilt her head in the least comfortable way but at least she could behold. Her back. 

Fascinating. 

The first word to cross her mind was fascinating. She had expected worse, a lot worse, after all the pain she had to go through. She hadn't expected it to look… pretty, almost. Mesmerizing for sure. The lines were well drawn, perfectly clean and, if she focused enough, she could distinguish the words he wrote all over her. In a language she couldn't understand. 

Disturbing. 

Disturbing was the second word she found to describe what she was seeing. Sure, she was relieved it didn't look like a scar and she was more than happy her back wasn't disfigured but there was something disturbing in this strange array of circles, triangles, snakes and flames. Geometric forms. Those were just geometric forms. Those were just words. How could they be dangerous? And why did he have to hide them… here? She shivered, not really sure it was from the cold and swiftly put on her clothes. She tensed a bit when the fabric made contact with her back, her skin was still a little sensitive even if it was much better now weeks had past. Weeks. Whole weeks and she was still feeling the pain. A thrill went down her spine. Would she ever? 

Heavy. 

Suddenly that fascinating, disturbing drawing on her back felt terribly heavy and she could feel the tears invade her eyes again. Why? Why did he do this? And why didn't he warn her? 

"Riza?" she startled when she heard small, gentle knocks on the door "Riza, are you ready?"

Roy. And top of that there was Roy. 

The beautiful, gentle and always caring Roy Mustang. Whom she kissed. Who kissed her back. More tears filled her eyes, for a whole different reason. He was… She was… Riza couldn't even know. She couldn't even tell if she wanted to kiss him once more or just run away from him. She was confused. More than confused, she was completely lost. And, besides fear, she couldn't properly name the feeling that was making her heart beat so fast. 

"So-Soon, sir."

She ruffled her hair, rearranged her top. No. No, those weren't fitting her. When would the temperatures rise so she could finally wear the outfit he offered her? 

"I don't want to pressure you" she could hear his lips curve into one of those characteristic smirks of his "But if you want to actually make lunch we have to leave now."

"I'm ready."

She opened the door, a little too briskly for she was in a rush and almost bumped into him. She didn't expect him to be this close and took an instinctive step back, blushing. 

"Easy, Riza" he chuckled, tilting his head a bit "You know, if you so desperately want a hug, you can just ask."

"I'm sorry" she lowered her head, blushing "You said we have to hurry, so I just…"

"I was joking, Riza."

Oh. Again, she failed to properly identify it as such. A joke. She had gotten better, though, she was less and less confusing the moments he was serious with the moments he wasn't. But, still, when that unknown feeling was making her heart beat like crazy, she could no longer tell. She could just apologize. 

"I'm sorry, sir."

"It's alright" he smiled at her "Let's go."

The weather was also fine today, meaning it was dreadfully cold. They walked the first mile mostly in silence, exchanging banalities, as if her father's influence was spreading around the house. Then, when he thought they were far enough, he made a move to get a little closer and grab her hand. Hands in glove meant no direct contact but she still jumped when his fingers touched hers. He frowned, slowly withdrew his hand but she moved here back to grab it firmly. No. He couldn't let go of her hand. Not now. Not ever. She needed him. She desperately needed him. Especially now she had to carry such a heavy burden on her back. A heavy burden he knew nothing of. 

"Is everything alright, Riza?"

"Y-Yes."

"Did your father…?"

"N-No, sir."

"Your back" he clicked his tongue "Is it healing?"

He knew. He had known since the very night they kissed. He had put his hand on her back several times and probably had felt her reactions for he had soon stopped. He never asked, not really. He was only concerned if she was healing right. He never expressed the desire to see or to even hear what could have happened. And yet Riza was always fearing the moment that he would. Ask. 

"Y-Yes."

She looked away and he squeezed her hand gently, as if to remind her he was here no matter what. Riza liked those moments. She liked it when they were going downtown together, holding hands. She liked it when they chose the ingredients at the market, when they were planning meals. Together. Sometimes he was buying her hot coffee or some treat and Riza couldn't be happier. Often, he was holding her close, by the waist, like every other couple on the streets. It was feeling great. It was feeling so great. So great it lightened the weight on her shoulders for a few hours. Though not today, not really. Today, something was off. Something was different in the way he was holding her and he felt distant when they bought the food. Never did he look for something to drink or eat and his brows narrowed each minute passing by. He was feeling different. As if he was carrying his own burden. 

"Riza" even his voice sounded distant "I've something to tell you."

She wasn't always good at properly identifying emotions by the sole tone of his voice but that one she could for sure. Bad news. He was about to utter bad news that would make her either worried or sad. Perhaps a bit of both. She almost dropped her basket in realization. Bad news. He was about to announce bad news. He didn't even have to voice it. She already was worried. And sad. She bashed her eyelids, rolled her eyes but nothing could stop the stinging and then the tears. No. No, she was happy. Despite the pain, despite the burden, she was happy. Why was it happening? Why was it always happening ? 

"Sorry, Riza, but I am joining the military."

Why did she have to lose the only thing she ever had? 

Him. 


	18. Miles gloriosus (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glorious soldier

If it had been quite easy telling Riza about his decision, telling his master was an entirely different story. And if Roy had more or less thought of himself as a man of resolve, he was definitely proven wrong. He had tried. He had really tried. He spent countless hours working on speeches he never managed to utter. He had wasted countless of Riza's nights unburdened his chest to her. Nothing could do. He couldn't bring himself to tell his master the truth. Because he knew how it would turn out. He knew. He had always known. Their relationship never was dear or even good but the very moment he'd make the announcement Roy was pretty sure Berthold Hawkeye would cast him out of his house. And that was something he was trying to avoid at all costs. For Riza. 

"Sir?" she moved a few bangs away from his eyes gently "What are you thinking about?" flickered his forehead tenderly "You're frowning again."

For her. For her on whose lap he was resting his head, trying to find his way out of this tricky conversation. For her who was finally daring to play with his hair casually, to hold his hand without asking, to take him in his arms whenever she was feeling like it. For her on whose bed he was laying and it didn't care much if they never dared to kiss again. Because he was feeling right where he needed to be. By Riza Hawakeye's side. What would happen to her, if he was casted out of the house? What would happen to her if he were to die on the battlefield, one could have argued. Though Roy was too young and naive and confident in his own abilities to even consider the possibility at this time. Again, he was about to be proven wrong. 

"I've picked up my uniform this morning" he passed a hand on his face, sighing "I'm starting at the Academy tomorrow."

"Tomorrow" her fingers had stopped, her voice had died "That means…"

"Yes" he sighed again "That means I've to tell your father."

"I don't care about that" she looked away, averting her eyes "But you're leaving" she sounded sad "You're leaving for good."

So sad Roy's heart sank in his chest and he sat up briskly. Without thinking, he turned in her direction and caught her face with both his hands desperately. He didn't want her to be sad. He never wanted her to be sad again. And especially not because of him. He had seen her cry too many times. And had sworn to himself he would never be the reason for the tears in her splendid brown eyes. 

"Riza" she grabbed his wrist but never made a move to force his hand off "Riza, we talked about this. I'll have permissions, we will see each other again. I'll send you letters. I'll call you" promises, promises he would probably not be able to keep "Riza, I won't abandon you. Please, Riza" and he sounded more desperate than intended "Please look at me."

She obliged and, oaths be damned, he was the reason for the tears currently rolling down her cheeks. An idiot. He was an idiot. She had said she was fine with his decision. She had acted as if she was actually fine with his decision. What an idiot he had been to even believe she was. Fine. He was leaving. She needed him and he was leaving. He bit on his lower lip. Idiot. A complete idiot. 

"Stay" was the sole word that managed to leave her mouth "Stay."

Saying he never considered going back on his decision was a lie. To be honest, he had processed the issue for days, torn between the call of duty that made him want to serve his country the best he could and his feelings for Riza Hawkeye. Not to mention the fire alchemy that would definitely be out of reach if he were to enter the military, regarding his master's thoughts on soldiers and State Alchemists. To be honest, he had thought about it so much he was often confused and unsure he had made the right decision. But he knew for a fact that, if he didn't enroll, he would regret it his whole life. And, like he said, he wasn't leaving her. Even if, from her perspective, it might feel like abandonment. After all, those watery eyes were begging. 

"Riza" he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, slowly "I can't. Amestris needs me."

"I need you too" she violently grabbed him by the collar, so violently he blinked in surprise "You can't leave me here. Alone. With… him. In… this house" and it hurt "Roy, you can't."

It hurt because the very first time she managed to speak his name was a dreadful one. A dreadful one when all she could do was cry and beg, knowing it wouldn't change a thing. For his decision was made. His decision was made a long time ago. He was awful, wasn't he, to leave the woman he loved behind just to serve a bunch of citizens he would never know? 

"Riza" he was horrible "Riza, I…" and probably repulsive. 

"I need you, Roy" she kept repeating "I really… need you" and it felt like a confession of love. 

I love you, Roy. 

I really love you. 

And he wanted her to understand. That he loved her too. But he didn't have the strength to utter those words either so his lips, instead of saying more nonsense she wouldn't buy, caught hers. Her sweet lips he had been dying to kiss once more but never dared. He didn't ask if he could, if she wanted him to though all guilt faded away when she hurled herself against him, kissing him back so passionately he wished he would have dared to do that sooner. He threw his arms around her shoulders, tilting his head a bit. And her tongue, her taste, the shape of her body. Her. Just her. Could he ask her to stay behind, really? Wasn't he just being cruel? 

"Riza" he passed a soft hand in her hair, dried her tears with his sleeve "I'm not leaving you. I swear, I'll stay in touch, I…"

"I'm scared" her grip on his clothing tightened suddenly, she wrung the fabric between his fingers "What if they send you somewhere like, on a battlefield? What if you…" was it cruel, to find her beautiful, even in a situation like this? 

"Don't be silly" he chuckled "I'll start at the Academy, it's like a school" he kissed her temple "I'm just going to military school, not on the battlefield."

"Re-Really?"

"Yes" he smiled "I swear. Just school."

For now, at least. And, for now, at least, their mouths found each other again.


	19. Cupido (Riza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desire

It was different. Something about this kiss was different. They hadn't kissed many times and Riza wasn't experienced on those matters but she still could tell. That it was different. She couldn't quite identify why but there was something else. Something more. Something that was making their mouths unable to let go of one another, something that was making their tongues take ravenous turns at each other even if they were already out of breath. Something that was making her cling onto him as if he could disappear. Something that was almost making her forget her father could come in anytime to fetch his student and find them in the most compromising position. Almost. Something different. Something utterly different. Despair, perhaps. Despair, probably. There was a dull light lurking in his splendid dark eyes when he pulled back. A dull light he was probably aware of for he looked away immediately, buried his face in the crook of her neck. 

"Riza…"

His voice had reduced to a low raspy whisper and his hot breath against her skin was making her shiver and her heart race all of a sudden. Don't stop. Whatever he was doing, she didn't want him to stop. If she was to agree to let him go to school, then to the battlefield, right now she just wanted him for her alone as long as this precious moment could last. Wanted. Him. She wanted him. She tensed, suddenly blushed with realization. So it was that… That something which was making her chest, her belly, her whole body warm. Desire. That was desire. Oh. It wasn't quite like what the books said. It was more… tender. Less violent. And it felt good. And he felt good. 

So good. 

She ran her fingers through his soft hair, massaging his scalp, not sure what she should do next. He wasn't quite confident either, nuzzling her neck some more as his hands reached her hips clumsily. Yes. Yes, of course he could. Touch her, hold her, kiss her. More, even. A thrill went down her spine. If he was to leave her, at least she'd like him to be hers at least once. Him. Hers. A fool. She was a fool. As if it would change a thing. She had read so many books, she had learnt how men acted when it came to this carnal matter. Except the books had failed to properly depict desire. Perhaps they failed to depict how considerate men such as Roy Mustang would act on this matter. A fool. A complete fool. 

"Riza" he pulled back a little, glanced at her and his gorgeous face was all flushed "Riza, I…"

His words died in his throat as he let out a sigh of frustration. Yes. What a difficult thing to say. What a difficult thing to ask. How could he not be? How could it not be hard to ask the other to give themselves to you? 

"Me too" she confessed, shyly, and his eyes widened with surprise. 

"You…" he frowned, concerned "You sure?" she nodded frantically and he clicked his tongue, probably in embarrassment "If it ever feels weird… Or if you're not so sure anymore… Or don't like it. Or don't want to" ah, he was cute "Please do tell me. I'd hate to do anything… that'd make you uncomfortable" he was so cute when he was being quite the gentleman. 

Yes, she had been right. Books even failed to portray how a man like him would act. Because, in all those stories, never a man told a woman those things. Those things that made her heart race even faster. She wasn't understanding. Why books would silence words that could make a woman feel so wanted. And loved. Loved? Could it be…? Or was she just being a fool once more? 

He was leaving after all. 

Love or not. 

She closed her eyes, to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay, as she slowly lied down on her back more comfortably. She tensed a bit as he came on top of her then relaxed when he started kissing her again. They were even more eager than before and she moaned in her throat when he wrapped his strong arms around her waist. She ran the palms of her hands on his shoulders, feeling the shape of his every trained muscle under the thin fabric of his shirt. He pulled her closer to his chest, the kiss deepening even more as his fingers hesitantly tugged on the fabric of her top. Permission. He was asking for permission. She broke the kiss, her breathing labored. She wanted him to. Touch her. Touch her bare skin, touch her whole. Except, right here, right now, her back was burning with a dreadful reminder. 

The forbidden formula. 

She said nothing to either stop or encourage him further, torn between her current desire for the man she loved and her duty as a daughter. The formula. The forbidden formula. The forbidden formula no one was allowed to see. If he touched her back, then he would… she gasped, arched as he dared to slow his hand under her top, resting it on her lower back. She dug her nails in his shirt. No. He couldn't. Yes. She wanted him to. No. No, no, no, no, no. 

"Riza" he kissed her cheek, her nose tenderly "If you don't want me to touch your back, I can…"

"I-I… I don't know" she stuttered "I'm afraid of what you might feel… there."

"If, whatever I feel there, I keep silent about it" he rubbed his nose alongside hers "If I don't ask, if I don't tell" slowly, so slowly "Would you be reassured?"

The sweetest of men, really. So sweet she was feeling like crying, somehow, and she couldn't exactly understand why. 

"Y-Yes."

"Alright" he smiled "Then I won't ask. Or tell" he shifted, his hand slowly moving upwards "But if it's too much I'll stop. Anytime."

"O-Okay."

She let out a little moan when he travelled his fingers up her spine, drawing out each vertebra with utmost precision. Alright. It should be fine. It was a tattoo, just a tattoo. There was no way he could figure out without reading all those words she couldn't understand, right? And, even if he suspected something, there was no way he could decipher a formula that complex that easily, right? She could let him touch her, she was doing nothing wrong… right? 

"R-Roy" she feebly let out, tilting her head back into the mattress. 

And he kissed her jawline, her neck, down to her collarbone. And it felt so good. And he felt so good she was almost convinced she wasn't doing anything wrong. Almost convinced she had every right to feel that way, to be loved and taken care of that way. 

Almost. 


	20. Caritas (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenderness

He had felt it the very moment they had started to kiss. Desire. Utter overwhelming desire. Well, it hadn't been difficult for him to identify his feelings as such. He knew his kisses were sloppy, hurried, eager. He knew he was holding her too close, too tight. And more importantly he couldn't stop. And didn't want to either. Okay. Okay, that was bad. First of all, because he would hate for his master to find them like that. Their relationship was going worse every day and he already had a huge announcement to make. Second, because he wasn't sure about how Riza was feeling about all this. Sure, she was kissing him back just as sloppily, hurriedly, eagerly. Sure, she was also holding him too close, too tight. But he would hate to assume. He would really hate to assume… and do something she would end up regretting. Especially since she was already feeling bad about his final decision. 

"Riza…"

He nuzzled her neck, feeling her shiver as he called her name in a low voice. He had to ask her. If she wanted him. Like he wanted her. He was a gentleman, he wouldn't do anything that could hurt her. Not now. Not ever. He tensed a bit when she swiftly ran her fingers through his hair. He hadn't been expecting the move and her gesture betrayed she wasn't feeling confident about the current situation either. For, just like Roy, it was probably her first. So it meant none of them had experience of some sort whatsoever. All the more reason to be careful. All the more reason to ask. His hands travelled down her slender hips a little and he pulled back to have a better look at her face. She was beautiful. She was so beautiful, with her flushed cheeks, with her short golden hair spread messily on the bed. With her parted rosy lips and brown eyes full of expectation. She was beautiful. So beautiful. 

"Riza" so beautiful it was difficult to look at her directly "Riza, I…"

He stopped mid-sentence, at a loss for words. What should he say? I want you? No, that sounded too straightforward, it would just embarrass them both. Can I touch you? No, he would just sound like a pervert. Making compliments? But that wouldn't count as consent, would that? He let out a deep sigh of frustration, averting his eyes. What should he say? 

"Me too" she just answered, completely out of the blue, and his eyes widened with surprise. She was amazing, Riza Hawkeye. She was amazing because she never failed to understand him, even when words weren't enough. Still, he had to ask. So he would be sure there was no misunderstanding. So he would be sure she really wanted him. Like he wanted her. 

"You…" he frowned, merely to hide his confusion "You sure?" but she nodded frantically and he clicked his tongue, merely to hide his self-awareness "If it ever feels weird… Or if you're not so sure anymore… Or don't like it. Or don't want to" shut up, he should shut up now "Please do tell me. I'd hate to do anything… that'd make you uncomfortable."

But he had to ask. But he had to say it. Except she never truly answered him, just closing her eyes and shifting to lay down on her back properly. So, in the end, he had to assume. He had to assume and he felt her tense when he came on top of her. Okay, slower. He had to go slower. And be more careful. He had to be more careful. He caught her lips with his gently, not daring much at first. Until he felt her relax. Then, he kissed her more eagerly than he ever did. Then, she kissed him more eagerly than she ever did. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist to bring her a little closer and a moan died in her throat. Damn. She was desirable. So desirable. So cute, so… Her hands found his shoulders, massaging them in firm circles through the fabric of his top, her fingers drawing his every muscle as if to mentally map the shape of his body through the clothing. She was perfect. Just perfect. He brought her a little closer, being careful the lower parts of their bodies wouldn't come in contact. He didn't want to scare her. Definitely not. 

He cared too much about her. 

He loved her. 

Riza Hawkeye. 

He tugged on her top frantically, asking for permission. He just wanted to touch her back. To run his palms on her warm skin, up her spine. Nothing much. Nothing too daring. Though he could remember how her face looked, how she tensed in pain when he had put his hand on her back. All too well. She was hurting so much she was probably left with a scar or two. Or perhaps even more. So he waited and wanted for a sign but she never did anything to either stop or encourage him. Nothing too daring, uh? Too daring, maybe. 

"Riza" so he kissed her cheek, her nose, just to prove her he didn't mean any harm "If you don't want me to touch your back, I can…"

"I-I… I don't know" she stuttered "I'm afraid of what you might feel… there."

See? He had been right. And, sometimes, he hated to be right. 

"If, whatever I feel there, I keep silent about it" he slowly rubbed his nose alongside hers "If I don't ask, if I don't tell" for he meant no harm "Would you be reassured?"

He hoped she would. He could stop if not but he truly hoped she would. 

"Y-Yes."

"Alright" he smiled, obviously relieved "Then I won't ask. Or tell" he shifted, his hand slowly moving upwards "But if it's too much I'll stop. Anytime."

"O-Okay."

He put his hand on her lower back, travelling up her spine as she let out another little moan. He went slow, going for her vertebrae at first and then daring to press his whole palm on her smooth skin. Her smooth skin. Smooth. He noticed what he thought was a beauty spot somewhere but no scar. No scar. Nowhere. He was reassured but still, something was bugging him. What was she afraid of if there was no scar here? 

"R-Roy" she called his name, tilting her head back and he had no luxury to think about this mystery any further. 

His name. She was calling him by his name. His given name. He had been waiting. He had been waiting for that since so long. He kissed her nose, lips, cheeks, jawline, travelling down to her collarbone. Yes, he loved her. He loved her so much. 

Another thing he couldn't tell her. 


End file.
